Nightmares
by Kaitrin
Summary: What is your worst nightmare? What is your heart's desire? Are you sure you aren't confused?
1. Chapter 1: Waning Moon

It was the plaintive whimpers that woke her up. After all their time traveling together, Amelia had grown used to the fact that Lina was neither a quiet nor gentle sleeper, and as long as her friend stayed on her side of the room, Amelia had somehow learned to sleep through the various outbursts, thumps, and snores that were a fact of life when one shared accommodations with the Sorceress Supreme (or Dra-Mata, depending on if you were talking to Lina herself or someone else).

Whimpering, though . . . that was not a typical part of Lina's nighttime repertoire, and although the sound was not loud, it was enough to jerk Amelia out of a deep sleep.

"Miss Lina?" she asked tentatively, listening for some alteration in Lina's breathing that might indicate that her friend was awake.

The whimpers continued unabated, although they were interspersed with an occasional moan or grunt. Amelia felt her face flush as she wondered if Lina was having one of _those_ dreams.

Until Lina sat bolt-upright in bed and screamed "NO!" in a voice of panic and utter agony.

Instantly, Amelia was out of her bed and on the other side of the room, a faint light spell blossoming automatically behind her. Lina was shaking, staring at something only she could see, and her breath came in gasps.

"Miss Lina?" Amelia asked again, stretching her hand out to lay it on Lina's shoulder, hoping to comfort her friend.

Just before she made contact, two things happened simultaneously. The door to their room burst open, and Gourry and Zelgadis rushed in, their weapons drawn, just as Lina screamed again, her hands clenching the blanket in which she was tangled, and ripping it in two.

Amelia tried to grab Lina by the shoulders to shake her out of whatever nightmare was gripping her, but to her horror, Lina turned on her. Her hands formed into claws and reached up to gouge Amelia's face. Gourry and Zelgadis were there just before she made contact. Zel grabbed the back of Amelia's nightshirt, dragging her out of Lina's range, while Gourry caught Lina's hands in his own. At his touch, Lina's body crumpled like a rag doll, and she started quietly weeping, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Without a word, Gourry gathered Lina onto his lap and held her, stroking her hair and her back. Lina allowed him to hold her, but she seemed oblivious to everything around her, as if she were still asleep.

The rather loud murmuring behind her made Amelia realize that they had attracted quite a bit of attention. As she turned to deal with the crowd of onlookers Lina's scream had brought, she just barely caught the look that passed between Gourry and Zelgadis.

"What's going on here?" a gruff and sleepy male voice demanded.

Amelia quickly pulled on a robe and moved to block the doorway. She was aware that Zelgadis was standing behind her, still holding his double-edged sword. "I'm terribly sorry," Amelia said, using her most soothing diplomatic voice. "I think my friend had a nightmare."

The crowd started murmuring incoherently, and a couple of the people at the front craned their necks, trying for some view of what was going on in the room.

"There's nothing to see here," Zelgadis rumbled menacingly from behind her. "We apologize for waking you, but this is really none of your business."

The crowd of onlookers thinned remarkably quickly at that point. She had to admit, with that stony exterior, Zelgadis was really effective at scaring people off. Not that she approved of such methods. As she watched the people disperse, she was barely aware of Zelgadis's hand on her elbow, gently urging her forward as well. The last person disappeared around the corner, and she was just about to turn back into the room she shared with Lina when the door snicked shut behind her. She looked up at Zelgadis in confusion.

"Shouldn't we—"

"Gourry will take care of her," Zelgadis said abruptly, interrupting her. His grip on her elbow was not painful, but it was firm and inexorably guided her toward the stairs that led down into the common room.

"But—" Amelia tried again as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder.

"No, Amelia," Zelgadis replied firmly.

And that was that.

Down in the common room, Zelgadis steered her toward a table by the fireplace. The fire had been banked for the night, but the coals still glowed cheerily, providing faint illumination, and turning Zelgadis's normally silver hair to a burnished copper. He sat with his arms crossed, and stared into the embers.

An awkward silence stretched out. At least it felt like an awkward silence to her. If Zelgadis felt any discomfort about sitting there in silence in the semi-gloom, he hid it well. Amelia glared at him a few times, feeling that it was unjust of him to prevent her from helping Lina, but if he noticed that, he ignored it as well.

Out of all the people close to her, Zelgadis was the one who kept her most on edge. Part of it was his general attitude. He was typically very quiet and cautious. Almost secretive. 'Heartless mystical swordsman' described him pretty well, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his sense of right and wrong, of just actions and unjust actions was distinctly underdeveloped. Not that he was evil—he was definitely not evil. He was driven, though, and she was not fully convinced that he would make proper choices if faced with the possibility of his cure. He was friend and companion, and there were moments when she thought there was more to their relationship, but . . . Amelia firmly squelched that line of thought. He cared for her, she knew he did. For some reason, though, he had a hard time expressing anything besides doom, gloom, and angst. No wonder Xellos seemed to thrive whenever he was near Zelgadis. Her mission was clear. It was not necessary to turn him into a bubbly personality—she was bubbly enough for the two of them—just to make him less the type of person who was always a monster's feast.

She stared into the fire. After their last adventure with Lina and Gourry, he had accompanied her back to Seyruun, although he had not stayed long. Not that she blamed him. She had been thrust into the responsibilities of the kingdom, and he had very little to do while she spent her days surrounded by paperwork and meetings. So he had left, promising to return eventually. A month or so later, he returned for a longer visit, establishing a pattern that had been repeated several times since. He would stay for a while, but would grow increasingly restless and discontent, and then he would leave. Sometimes just for a day or so. Sometimes for months at a time. Then he would come back, and the cycle started over. She had asked Daddy to give him an official position, hoping it would calm the restlessness, maybe give him some sense of purpose. She remembered how thrilled she had been when Zelgadis had accepted the position as her official escort and bodyguard. There had even been a formal ceremony where he had pledged his loyalty to her in front of Daddy and the other nobles of Seyruun. But it had not been enough to curb his restlessness. He came back when she needed him, although she had not quite figured out how he knew to time his travels. Out of all the people she knew, he was the hardest for her to read, but she had learned to recognize certain patterns, and she had slowly realized that his restlessness always became much worse if there had been any hint of heightened physical intimacy between them, regardless of how innocuous . . .

Her musings were interrupted when Gourry came down the stairs, looking very tired and worn out.

"Everything okay?" Zelgadis asked at the same time that she said, "Is Miss Lina okay?"

Gourry gave both of them a very tired looking smile. "She's back asleep," he said as he raked his hair out of his eyes.

Amelia sighed in relief. "Thank goodness!"

Zelgadis gave her a sharp look, but he averted his eyes quickly enough when she looked at him questioningly. She was used to his façade of aloofness, that mask of indifference he wore to keep the world at a distance. She knew he meant nothing by it—it was his natural expression, after all. So why did seeing him assume it now suddenly make her so sad?

No sooner had she identified the feeling than it was gone. Maybe she was just tired. It had been a very busy day, after all.

"Sleepy?" Gourry asked as he reached out and ruffled her hair.

"Mmm, yeah. A bit," she confessed. "I think I'll go back to bed."

"Sleep well, Amelia," Gourry replied with a casual smile.

Amelia smiled back and bid the two men good night before returning to the room she shared with Lina, who was actually sleeping peacefully for once. As Amelia slipped between the covers, she wondered if part of Zelgadis's grumpy attitude came from being woken up in the middle of the night, which led her to wonder why a chimera who was mostly rock golem and brow demon needed to sleep. Her last conscious thought was to hope that he would be in a better mood in the morning.

* * *

"You sure it's safe?" Zelgadis asked very quietly as he watched Amelia head up the stairs.

Gourry shrugged casually. "As long as she doesn't slip into Lina's bed, she'll be fine, right?"

"That's not what I meant," Zelgadis growled softly. Then he paused, examining the other man carefully. "And I think you know exactly what I meant, too."

Gourry gave him a very direct look. "The answer's still the same, though," he replied evenly, "so does it really matter?"

"Of course it matters!" Zel struggled to keep his voice low and not pound his fists on the table in front of him. "You saw Lina! She was attacking Amelia!"

"I saw," Gourry acknowledged.

Zelgadis sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He tried to control his breathing, and wished that his heart would stop thumping so dramatically. He had seen Amelia in danger several times before, but only one other time had made him react like this: the time they had been fighting Gaav outside the temple containing the Claire Bible. He had been prepared for Gourry to tell him that he had just been imagining things, and dismiss the entire situation as if it had been nothing. And maybe he was hoping that he had just imagined that look of pure hatred on Lina's face as she reached up to gouge out Amelia's eyes . . .

"You saw," Zelgadis echoed. "Still going to tell me that Amelia's safe up there in the same room with her?"

"She put herself to sleep."

"She did _what_?" Zel exclaimed, hoping he was misunderstanding. After all this was Gourry, the man who was clueless about magic and the various subtle dangers of using particular spells on the self, especially the sleep spell.

When Gourry caught his eyes, Zelgadis realized that he was actually not entirely clueless about how dangerous it was for Lina to cast a sleep spell on herself. And just for a moment, he saw how worried the other man was. He acknowledged the worry and waited for the explanation.

"She told me to ask you to wake her up in the morning. But don't let Amelia know—she doesn't want to worry her." Gourry paused, and took a deep breath. "She said to tell you the normal counter probably wouldn't work, that you'd have to—" He broke off, and closed his eyes. His face took on a look of concentration and intensity that it normally only wore during swordplay. "You'd probably have to use the break spell to disrupt it—"

"Flow Break?" Zelgadis interrupted incredulously. "Are you sure about that? Flow Break doesn't usually work against a sleeping spell—"

Gourry sighed. "Don't ask me to explain it, okay? She said to tell you that her variant doesn't work the same way as a typical spell—"

"Of course not," Zel snorted. "How foolish of me," he continued sarcastically. "Lina can't do anything the way everyone else does, can she?"

"Look," Gourry said with a hint of frustration. "Do you want to help or not? 'Cause all these interruptions aren't really helping."

He bit back an acid reply and gestured at Gourry to continue.

"The next part was confusing," Gourry confessed, looking worried. "She said that if the break spell didn't work, you should try it with a fire spirit. If that didn't work, you'd have to use a different kind of breaking spell . . . but she really hoped that wouldn't be necessary since it would make a mess of the floor."

"A Rune Breaker?" Zelgadis asked, pretty sure that was what Lina would have meant.

"Yeah . . . yeah, I think that's what she said," Gourry replied hesitantly.

Zelgadis closed his eyes, and leaned his head against his hand, rubbing at his forehead while he tried to process what Gourry had told him. From what he could tell, Lina's sleep variant created an artificial sleep, rather than enhancing the body's natural process, which is why a Counter Sleeping would not work but a Flow Break could. It seemed like she somehow had created a shamanistic variant using the forces of water or ice—at least that was the only thing he could think of that would make combining a fire spirit with Flow Break make sense. He really hoped that a simple Flow Break was enough, because he was not really sure he could develop a spell variant on the fly. Trust Lina to come up with something so complicated—

Like a nice complicated distraction. Something to keep him occupied and keep him from asking the real question—the one he actually had already asked and Gourry had neatly evaded, not just once, but twice now.

"I'll help," he said slowly. "But I want some answers. What _exactly_ is going on with Lina?"

Gourry shrugged, a deliberately casual move. "Most of it you already know," he said easily enough. "She had a nightmare that scared her, and she wanted to make sure she didn't wake up again until morning."

"There must be more to it than that," he insisted. "Lina does not strike me as the type to wake up screaming in terror." He paused and considered. "In fact," he said slowly, "I don't think I've _ever_ heard Lina scream in terror. Not like that."

"You've obviously never been around her when she sees slugs, then," Gourry replied, sounding amused.

Zel's eyes narrowed. That was the third time Gourry had evaded a direct question. "You're protecting her, aren't you?" he accused. It was the only logical explanation, since Gourry normally was not so evasive. Lina must have put him up to it.

Gourry met his eyes, all hint of laughter gone. "Yes, I am," he replied, deadly serious.

* * *

The first thing she was aware of was heat. Not uncomfortable sticky heat, but the kind of heat that sank through the skin into chilled muscles and joints. It was like sitting by a sunny window on a spring day after a long winter. The feeling was intense, but also comforting. At least, it was comforting at first. Within moments, Lina started to feel as if she were roasting in front of roaring oven. She could practically hear the flames burning out of control.

With a tremendous effort, she forced her eyes open, half expecting to see a raging inferno. Instead, she saw nothing aside from the wooden ceiling of the room she was sharing with Amelia. Feeling incredibly groggy, she pushed herself up on one elbow, wondering why she was on the floor instead of in bed. Almost instantly, the intense heat faded.

"Took you long enough," Zelgadis grumped from behind her.

The memories of the previous night came flooding back at that point. Lina rubbed a finger through one of the sooty gray lines that patterned the floor while she tried to prepare for the inquisition she was pretty sure would be coming rather shortly. How was she supposed to think straight when she was this groggy? "What time is it?" she asked, trying to buy herself some time.

"Mid-morning," he replied as he moved to her side and held out a hand to help her up. Even for a guy with skin of rock he looked pretty haggard. "Do me a favor, will you?" he asked as he pulled her up off the floor. "Next time you want me to do something, please don't relay your instructions through Gourry," he complained, sounding rather aggrieved. "A note in that scrawl you call writing would be preferable—"

"What are you complaining about?" Lina interrupted with a yawn. "It looks like you figured it out okay."

Zel started muttering under his breath. Since he was just complaining about the fact that her spells had to be crazy variants instead of the normal versions that normal people used, she tuned him out. She had more important things to deal with at the moment, anyways. Like trying to decide if she should stagger down to the common room for breakfast, since her stomach felt like an aching cavern, or if she should tumble back into bed, since keeping her eyes open seemed virtually impossible.

"Zel?" she asked through another huge yawn. The bed was looking more and more appealing by the moment.

"Yeah?" he replied cautiously.

"Do me a favor and have someone send up some food?" she asked plaintively as she fell into her bed. The pillow was so soft next to her cheek . . .

* * *

Amelia found Zelgadis sitting by himself behind the inn. She felt as though he had been avoiding her, and she suspected it had something to do with the fact that Lina was still in bed, even though two meals had gone by.

He gave her a very wary glance as she rounded the corner of the inn, and she was surprised at how haggard he looked, but when he returned his attention to the piece of wood he was carving, she wondered if she had imagined it. He was, after all, a heartless mystical swordsman—haggard was not really a part of his repertoire. Carving, however . . . apparently that was. The wide range of his talents never ceased to amaze her. But she had not sought him out to admire his many talents.

"What did you do to Miss Lina?" she asked without preamble.

"What makes you think I did anything to her?" he replied coolly in a tone calculated to make her back off, not even deigning to look up at her.

"Because you've been hiding from me all day, and every time I ask Mr. Gourry about Miss Lina he gets all funny on me."

"Funny?" he repeated, sounding slightly strangled. Amelia could not tell if he was trying not to laugh or really angry.

"Well," Amelia hesitated briefly knowing how strange this was going to sound. "It's almost like he's evading my questions. On the one hand, it seems like typical air-headed Mr. Gourry, but . . ." she trailed off, not certain exactly how to explain it.

"But like he's doing it on purpose," Zelgadis said coolly.

That pretty much described it exactly.

"Do you think he really is," Amelia asked cautiously.

"He's protecting her. He said as much last night," Zelgadis replied brusquely.

"By keeping things from us?" Amelia asked indignantly. "But we're her friends!"

Zelgadis said nothing for a few moments as he shaved the knife against the wood in his hand in long confident strokes, adding small yellow curls to the piles at his feet. "To be honest," he said at last, "I don't think Gourry really knows what's going on either. He's just following Lina's lead." He looked her in the eye then, the first time he had truly looked at her this entire conversation. "What happened last night?" he asked.

"I think Miss Lina was having a nightmare—"

"I figured that much already," Zelgadis interrupted. "I want to know why she attacked you," he said fiercely.

Amelia's brain tried valiantly to process two very different pieces of information at the same time. One was immediate shock and denial that Lina had been trying to attack her, coupled with the realization that 'attack' actually summed it up quite nicely. The other was the fierce tone of his voice that spoke of worry and protectiveness—feelings she had suspected he felt, but had never really seen him express. She watched his hands moving confidently over the piece of wood, shaving a long curl here, a chunk there in an effort to keep herself focused and not climbing the highest available edifice to proclaim her giddy joy to the world.

"Amelia?" Zelgadis prompted with a hint of annoyance.

With an effort, she pulled her attention back to the current conversation. "I'm not sure," she replied, more to buy herself time than out of any real uncertainty. "I don't think she knew it was me," she finally offered.

"She knew it was Gourry, though, didn't she?"

Amelia thought about that a moment. "She did, didn't she?" she replied happily with a beatific smile. "Do you think they're finally together?" she asked hopefully.

Zelgadis looked up from his carving, his expression somewhere between annoyance and indifference. "First of all, we've already had this conversation, remember? They seem the same as always, so unless they tell us differently, or we actually catch them in the middle of something, I doubt we'll know one way or the other. Secondly, I thought that we agreed that it was none of our business. Finally, I don't see how that is relevant to the current conversation," he said coolly.

"Of course it is!" Amelia gushed enthusiastically. "She attacked me because she didn't recognize me because we're just friends. We're not close enough for her to recognize me instinctively. But she knew it was Mr. Gourry even though she was in the middle of a nightmare! Don't you see? This is wonderful!"

"Wonderful?" Zelgadis echoed, jumping to his feet, in obvious agitation. "You're sharing a room with a woman who is having nightmares and she can't distinguish between friend and foe! Last night she almost gouged your eyes out! What will it be next time?"

"It was just one nightmare," Amelia said calmly, trying to placate him while her stomach did backflips in nervous exultation. She knew Lina's nightmare must have been bad to cause her friend to react the way she had, but so much good was happening as a result . . . It just proved that good things always came out of bad!

Zelgadis sat back down, turning his attention back to his carving, running his fingers over the torso. It startled her when she realized that the figure looked like a young maiden with short hair. After a moment he looked up at her, considering. Finally he let out his breath in a silent sigh. "You asked me what I did to Lina? Well, I woke her up," he said finally.

"Woke her up?" Amelia echoed, shaking her head slightly. A terrible suspicion started to bloom in her mind. "You don't mean," she said hesitantly, "she didn't . . ." She glanced up for confirmation, and sighed when he nodded slightly. "She put herself to sleep, didn't she." It was no longer a question.

"Still think it was just one nightmare?" Zelgadis asked. "Because it's pretty clear that Lina thinks it's something more. It's also obvious that she's worried enough to take steps to avoid a repeat performance."

Amelia chewed on her lip, the wisp of an idea wafting at the edge of her mind. When she grasped it, she suppressed a wicked grin. "It seems to me that it would be better if I didn't share a room with Miss Lina until we figure out what's going on."

Zelgadis looked visibly relieved before he masked his expression. "That might be for the best," he said indifferently.

"And," Amelia continued, "since Mr. Gourry seems to be able to calm her down, I think he should share a room with her instead."

"Amelia," Zelgadis growled warningly. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish, here?"

"Mr. Zelgadis," Amelia replied innocently, "I'm just thinking about what's best for our friends. If Mr. Gourry is the one who can calm Miss Lina when she's having a nightmare, doesn't it make sense to have him in the same room with her?"

Zelgadis looked at her warily, his eyes narrowed to slits. "And where are you going to sleep?" he asked suspiciously.

Amelia suppressed a sigh, knowing what a stickler he was for proper protocols concerning acceptable behavior for the escort of a princess. "This is a large inn," she pointed out reasonably. "I'm sure there are other rooms."

When he turned his attention back to the figure in his hands, Amelia thought the matter was closed. But then he looked up at her. "No," he said abruptly. "If Gourry is going to be with Lina, I want you with me."

Amelia felt her heart in her throat. "Mr. Zelgadis?" she asked slowly, wondering what happened to protocol.

"Until we know exactly what's going on here," he said intently, meeting her gaze, "I want you where I know I can keep you safe."

* * *

When Lina next woke, the room was empty, and judging by the quality of the light, it was somewhere around early evening. She was so hungry she almost felt nauseous, which was a distinctly unpleasant feeling. Fortunately, there was a tray sitting on the table next to her bed. She eagerly reached for it, but at the sight of sausages sitting in congealed grease and scrambled eggs starting to shrivel and harden, nausea won out. Lina barely had enough time to dump the water pitcher out of the basin before what was left of last night's dinner made a hasty and unpleasant exit.

Once the spasm passed, Lina cleaned herself up and collapsed onto the bed, curling into a ball. First the nightmare, now this.

She was running out of time.

* * *

Gourry watched Lina come down the stairs to the common room and take the last empty seat at their table.

"Did you guys order yet?" she asked, sounding mostly like her normal self. "I'm starving!" she declared emphatically as she opened the menu.

He knew it was a façade, but a quick glance at Zelgadis and Amelia told him that they were not quite sure if it was or not. Amelia was clearly worried. Zel was mostly just annoyed. They both had tons of questions, and he had very few answers he could give them. The strain of hiding his own concern while putting the two of them off was pushing even his limits.

Lina tossed the menu down on the table and gestured to the waiter. "Hey, Pops!" she called out, "I'll have the chicken dinner for two!"

Zel sipped at his coffee. Amelia toyed with her water glass. Gourry saw them exchange a glance before the waiter swooped down on their table to take their orders. Once their orders were placed, Lina leaned forward, propping herself up on her elbows. After one glance at Amelia, she turned on Zel. "You told her, didn't you?" She sounded pretty annoyed. Gourry wondered how long it would take for her to turn on him.

"She's not a child," Zel returned with a flinty gaze.

It was enough to shock Lina out of annoyance and into surprise. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"You don't have to—" Zel started.

"Will the two of you please stop talking about me like I'm not here?" Amelia asked, sounding like she had caught Lina's annoyance.

Gourry stopped following the conversation at that point, letting the cadences and tones of his companions' voices blend into the rest of the sounds in the room. He knew it drove Lina up the wall, but old mercenary habits died hard. For too long, his survival had depended on his ability to accurately gauge the tenor of his surroundings. From Gourry's perspective, keeping track of the swirling and shifting currents around them was far more important than following the specifics of a conversation.

"You decided what?" Lina's sudden spike of temper brought his attention quickly back to said conversation.

"You heard me," Zel growled.

"If you're not going to tell us what's going on, Miss Lina, it's really for the best," Amelia said soothingly. "After all, it's really not a good idea for you to keep putting yourself to sleep."

Gourry struggled to pick up the thread of the conversation.

"Why not separate rooms, then?" Lina asked from between clenched teeth.

Ah, so that was what was going on.

"Two reasons," Zel replied implacably. "First, the inn doesn't have other singles in our price range. And second, which is related to the first, our travel funds are running low."

"Fine," Lina said slowly from between clenched teeth. "We just pick up a merc job, then, or go raid some bandits."

"Wait, what?" Gourry asked, interrupting the flow of the conversation.

Lina turned and glared at him. "Zelgadis and Amelia," she said, slowly enunciating each word, "think we should change sleeping arrangements."

At least she did not chew him out for not paying attention to the conversation. Gourry looked across the table at Zelgadis. "You want to share a room with Amelia that badly?" he asked, going on the offensive.

It was Zelgadis's turn to glare, while Amelia immediately started protesting something about only thinking about Lina's well-being.

Lina, on the other hand, calmed down dramatically. "Is that what this is all about?" she asked, sounding both surprised and pleased. "All you guys had to do was say so, you know," she continued.

Their food arrived at that point, ending the conversation. However, it seemed that everyone considered the matter settled, since after dinner, Amelia commented that she was going to move her things and Lina just smiled at her and waved her off. She did smirk knowingly at Zelgadis after Amelia disappeared up the stairs, but he just stared at her in stony silence. Finally, she stood up. "You better not hurt her, Zelgadis Greywords," she said seriously; there was absolutely nothing teasing about her demeanor. After holding his eyes for a few moments, she went upstairs as well.

"That was really low," Zelgadis said angrily to Gourry as soon as Lina was out of hearing.

Gourry shrugged. "Did you really want to argue with her all night about it?" he asked calmly. "I just gave her a good reason to give up gracefully." He looked archly at Zelgadis. "Our funds aren't really that low, are they?"

"They're not that great," Zelgadis responded. "We'll need to be careful to make it back to Seyruun, or take another merc job, like Lina suggested." He sighed then. "I'd really rather not, though. I want to get Amelia back home as soon as possible." He stared off into space, lost in his own thoughts.

Gourry left him there, pretty sure that he would brood for the rest of the evening. After sharing a room with Zelgadis off and on for the past few years, he had a good idea what was bothering him: the more he admitted to his feelings for Amelia, the more desperate he was to find a way to return his body back to its purely human form. Unfortunately, there was very little Gourry could do to help. Lina had looked into the situation a bit, but her specialty was not chimeras. He knew she was keeping her eyes open for anything that might help, but that she also did not take Zelgadis's desire all that seriously. If Zel was not going to explain why he wanted to be cured so badly, it certainly was not Gourry's place to do so.

After spending some time on the practice field, Gourry went upstairs to move his things out of the room he had been sharing with Zelgadis. Amelia was already there, sitting at the small table under the window and writing something. She looked up when he came in and watched him as he gathered up his belongings for a few moments before speaking. "That was really mean, Mr. Gourry," she finally said reprovingly.

"Why?" he asked guilelessly, as he suppressed a sigh.

"Because—" Amelia broke off and bit her lip, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "Never mind," she muttered.

"Sleep well, Amelia," he said simply as he gathered the last of his things and left the room.

When he entered Lina's room, he saw her perched on her bed, leaning against the wall amidst scattered scraps of parchment. A good-sized book rested on her bent knees, and she was absently nibbling on one of those damned pens, her eyes staring at nothing. Not exactly what he expected to see, but it was not exactly surprising, either. What did surprise him was the fact that she was wearing a dark silk nightgown. "Is that what you're wearing to bed these days?" he asked as he tossed his gear on the other bed.

"Mmm," she replied absently, the kind of non-committal reply he typically got from her when she was focused on books and words and research. She looked back down at her book, rifled through a couple pages, and then started sifting through the parchment scattered around her. When she found the one she was looking for, she made a couple of quick notes, placed the parchment in the book, and closed it with a loud thunk. Then she looked up at Gourry.

"Is that the book you took from Lord Margstrom's?" he asked, his interest piqued. Most books looked pretty much the same to him, but this one held special memories.

"Yeah," she replied. "_The Menagerie_." She gathered up the other scraps of parchment, stacked them on the book, and then put the whole pile under her bed.

"Just looking up one thing?" he asked, trying to gauge her mood.

"Yeah," she repeated slowly, her eyes taking a faraway look. "But not the 'just one thing' you're thinking of," she said with a knowing smile, finally focusing all her attention on him. She slid off the bed to stand in front of him.

"So, does Amelia know that you have this," Gourry asked in a low voice, stroking a finger along the edge of the silk.

"Of course not!" she retorted. "Kinda defeats the purpose, don't you think?" Her eyes took that faraway look again. With an effort, she shook herself and refocused on him. A wicked look bloomed in her eyes as she closed the distance between them and snaked a hand around his neck, drawing him down for a kiss. "Come to my bed," she whispered against his mouth.

It was the first opportunity they had had since the evening Gourry had ambushed her in the middle of a forest glade. Clearly, Lina wanted to take full advantage of the situation. Not that he had any intention of stopping her . . . except for one minor detail.

"Zel and Amelia are next door, you know," he reminded her gently. "And the walls really aren't all that thick."

"Already taken care of," she murmured as she tugged him toward her bed. "Do you want the full explanation or—"

He could feel her lips curve into a grin as he kissed her to interrupt her explanation. Apparently, that was the right answer.

* * *

With an inaudible sigh, Amelia skimmed over the report she had just finished writing describing her meetings with the Lord of Lim. She really should have taken care of this the day before, when the details were still fresh, but she had hoped that a bit of distance would provide some clarity. Unfortunately, now that she was struggling to record her impressions, the situation seemed more tangled than she had first thought. The report was a rather bare-bones recitation that seemed to mock her perceptions. With another sigh, Amelia started to read the report again, taking time to scratch impressions and thoughts in the spaces between lines.

She was halfway through when Zelgadis came in. He nodded at her before sitting down on a bed, his arms loosely gripping one of his knees, and staring out the window into the night.

Half-formed suspicions and concerns about Lim slipped away as she studied him. It was pretty obvious he was trying to act as if she were not in the room, and she wondered if that was his idea of maintaining some sort of proper protocol. She smiled fondly at him while her thoughts whirled furiously. She could afford the time it would take to lull him into a sense of complacency before she attacked. Even if it meant he fled as soon as they reached Seyruun, there was no way she was letting a golden opportunity like this slip through her fingers. Let him maintain the illusion that he was a disinterested bodyguard. Not even a naked sword on the floor between their beds—potent symbol of chastity that it was—would stop her.

As if he had heard her thoughts, Zelgadis got up, pulled his sword from its sheath and began examining the edges for nicks. He sat with the blade resting on his knees, while he methodically worked a whetstone over the edges. It was an unfamiliar sound, but not unpleasant. In fact, she was surprised to find that there was something soothing about the repetitive steely rasp of whetstone over blade.

She shook her head deliberately and turned her attention back to the report. Only half way through, and she had so many cross-outs and interlinear notes, she wondered if it might be a better idea to just start all over. In spite of the thought, she found herself scratching out another line and squeezing text into the scant margins. Then she huffed in annoyance, realizing that she had just edited one of her earlier edits.

"Am I bothering you?" Zelgadis asked quietly without looking up from his sword.

"No," she answered honestly. "It's this report."

"You never did tell me how your meetings with Lord Gottwald went."

Amelia did not answer right away, as she quickly skimmed over the mess of her report. It just seemed to be getting worse. "Honestly?" she said finally. "I think I'm in over my head with Jeremiah."

Zelgadis raised an eyebrow and looked at her quizzically. "'Jeremiah'?" he repeated.

For some strange reason, Amelia realized that she was blushing even as she clamped down on the sudden inexplicable urge to squirm. "He insisted that I call him by his given name," she said, the explanation sounding lame in her own ears. And there was no real reason it should, since it was the truth.

Zelgadis studied her for a moment before seeming to accept her explanation and returning his attention to his sword. "In over your head, how?" he asked in the tone of someone making polite conversation, but she could hear the undertone beneath his words.

"I'm not sure," Amelia admitted slowly. "He seemed interested in an alliance during our initial meetings, but later, it was different. Suddenly the terms weren't good enough. He wanted further negotiations." She fished around her notes until she found the sealed message Jeremiah had asked her to carry to her father. At the time, his request had seemed perfectly normal, but ever since she had left Jeremiah's residence, she could not help but feel like she had been insulted in some subtle way.

"Do you have any idea what he wants," Zel asked curiously, looking back up at her.

Amelia shook her head. "No, not really," she answered slowly as she stared at the bright orange seal of the Lord of Lim. "But I'm not sure that I really trust him." Even that was not fully accurate. She both trusted and did not at the same time. It was as if all her senses and intuitions that usually guided her so well in other situations had gone haywire.

That statement earned her Zelgadis's full attention. "You mean to tell me that you're comfortable calling him by his first name, but you don't trust him?" he asked incredulously.

"I know it sounds strange," she admitted as she toyed with the envelope, and wondered what kind of man scented his stationary. It was not unpleasant: kind of fruity and spicy. "It's like when I think about him, there are all of these layers."

"Layers?" Zelgadis echoed slowly, as his eyes bored into her as if he were trying to see into her mind.

"I don't know how else to explain it," Amelia admitted. Hence the problem writing her report. "The top layer feels genuinely friendly. It's something under that that makes me feel like I can't trust him."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Zelgadis demanded. "I wouldn't have let you continue meeting him alone if I had known."

"That's why I didn't tell you," she said firmly. "I didn't think he'd meet with you there to glower at him."

Zelgadis folded his arms over his chest and glowered at her. "I'm your bodyguard," he said tightly. "And your official escort. I have every right to be there."

"Yes, but you hate escort duties, don't you?" she challenged archly.

He recoiled, the glower replaced by sudden surprise. "What makes you think that?" he demanded.

Suddenly, instead of feeling playful, she was annoyed. "Because every time you have to serve as my escort, you do it, but then you find some excuse to run off. There's always something you suddenly remembered to do on the other side of the kingdoms. Every single time." Amelia was surprised at how bitter she sounded. Had she always been this bothered by his behavior?

"Is that why—" he cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head. "Amelia, listen to me," he said intently, moving quickly to kneel by her chair. "Phil gave me the choice. I didn't have to take both positions," he continued, sounding both gentle and decisive. "I chose to be your escort in addition to your bodyguard."

The tone of his voice made the statement a declaration he was almost daring her to contradict. His eyes seemed to beg her to understand. And she could feel the layers of him. It confused her, because in that moment, she felt the same urge to both trust and not trust that she had already associated with the Lord of Lim. She pressed the heel of one hand against her eye, wondering if something was wrong with her.

"Amelia?" Zelgadis asked, his voice tinted with concern. For some reason, it made her feel better.

She pushed decisively away from the table, leaving the report for some later time. That too, made her feel better, and she gave him a genuine smile. "I must be more tired than I thought," she said. "I guess I'm not really thinking straight."

His eyes searched hers for a few more moments. "Well, if you need to meet with Lord Gottwald again—or anyone else you don't exactly trust for that matter—you're taking me with you," he announced decisively. "I didn't become your bodyguard just for the sake of an empty title, you know."

This time Amelia's smile seemed to come forth from the depths of her heart, making Zelgadis's lips quirk in response. She stood up and pulled her night clothes from her pack, while he returned to his bed and started wiping down his sword. It was one part curiosity and one part pure mischievousness that prompted her to take off her belt and hang it over the chair.

"Uh, Amelia?" Zelgadis asked, not quite masking the quaver in his voice.

"Hmm?" she responded, looking over her shoulder while gripping the hem of her tunic. It took all her self-control to keep her voice uninterested. She had suspected he was looking at her, even when it seemed like his attention was elsewhere.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting ready for bed, of course!" she announced even as she started pulling her tunic up.

Quicker than she would have thought possible, he was hustling her out of the room with firm instructions to change in the garderobe at the end of the hall. When she came back, ready for bed, she was not surprised to find his naked sword lying on the floor exactly between the two beds, which had been shoved as far apart as possible. She climbed into the empty bed, hiding her grin. She wondered just how much she would succeed in cracking that stony exterior by the time they reached Seyruun.

* * *

Lina awoke slowly and stretched luxuriantly. She felt more relaxed than she had in days. Having Gourry in her bed had kept the nightmares at bay, among other things. Unfortunately, she probably was a bit too relaxed. If she went down looking like this, Amelia and Zel would start in, trying to figure out if they were really together or not.

Oh, who was she kidding? They were going to do that regardless. She wished there was some way to put them off. Zel's eyes saw way too much, and of course, Amelia was so convinced they belonged together that she analyzed and interpreted every single touch or interaction. Lina sighed to herself. That was probably another reason she was so relaxed, since she did not have to maintain the illusion in front of Amelia last night.

Dressing quickly, Lina stuffed her belongings into her pack, noticing that Gourry had already cleared out his gear. She tossed her pack over her shoulder and headed down to the common room.

She saw Zelgadis and Amelia sitting at a table. Zel was sitting with his back to her, and from the set of his shoulders, something was bothering him—not that there was anything peculiar about that. Amelia, on the other hand, looked like she was trying really hard not to cry. After descending a couple more steps, Lina realized the probable reason for Amelia's distress: Gourry had his arms around a waitress, gripping her hands around a serving spoon and nudging her body into the proper stance for holding a sword. As she watched, Gourry pulled her closer to his body and whispered something in her ear that made her blush like crazy.

Lina felt the simultaneous urge to kiss him for his brilliance and to smack him into next week for touching another woman.

"Hey, there, Gourry!" she called with only half-feigned cheerfulness. "Did you order breakfast yet?"

"Lina!" he returned her greeting with his typical sunny smile and then returned his attention to the waitress, giving her a few more comments and refining her stance a bit.

As Lina slid into one of the empty seats, she fumbled in one of her pockets, looking for one of the scraps of parchment she had scribbled notes on the previous night. It gave her a few more minutes to compose herself and an excuse not to stare at Amelia, whose eyes were as large as saucers. She found it just as Gourry sat down. "I hope you remembered to charge her for the pointers," Lina said as if this were a normal occurrence.

In reply, Gourry slid a copper across the table. "I told them you wouldn't mind as long as I charged," he said, sounding smug.

Amelia started making choking sounds. "Are you okay, Amelia?" Lina asked, turning toward the other girl in concern.

Amelia met her eyes and stared at her in disbelief for quite a few moments before dropping her gaze and muttering under her breath.

Lina shrugged and pushed the scrap across the table at Zelgadis. "What do you make of this?" she asked, hoping it was enough to push off comments and questions about Gourry indefinitely.

Zel also studied her hard for a moment before his eyes flicked down to the parchment. With a sigh, he picked it up and squinted at her handwriting. "Sounds like gibberish," he said shortly, pushing it over to Amelia.

"'All creatures are composed of black and gold, order and chaos,'" Amelia read slowly. "'Creation itself requires a balance . . .'" she trailed off. "This can't be right," she protested. "Everyone knows that the balance of our world is determined through the struggle between the gods and the demons, and that all creatures are composed of the four elements."

Lina nodded. "That's what we've been taught," she agreed. Then she looked closer at Zel. "Have you ever come across anything like this in any of your research?"

Zelgadis thought for a moment, and then he shook his head. "Not that I can recall," he said decisively. "Why?"

Lina responded with another question, one that had struck her forcefully when she had re-read this passage the night before. "Have you ever read anything about how our world was created?"

Both Amelia and Zelgadis stared at her. Zelgadis grasped the meaning of her question first. "No," he said slowly. "It's like Amelia said: everyone knows the story—"

"Exactly," Lina interrupted. "Everyone—except for Gourry, of course," she said derisively.

"Wha . . .?" Gourry put in, upon hearing his name.

"Nothing, bait-for-brains," she said acerbically, but not quite hiding her affection. "As I was saying, everyone knows the story, but I've never actually read anything that says what everyone knows. How do you suppose we all know it?"

"Maybe," Amelia said slowly, "it's something passed down to the priests . . . ?"

"You're a shrine maiden," Lina pointed out, "you tell me."

Amelia shook her head. "I'm not really a high-ranking shrine maiden, though," she pointed out. "Someone like Sylphiel or Filia might be able to better answer—"

"What about the Claire Bible," Zel interrupted. "Did that say anything . . ." he trailed off when Lina shook her head.

"The Claire Bible only answered my direct questions, and the thing I needed to know most was how to destroy a high ranking demon," she explained with a sigh. "I wasn't really thinking of more esoteric questions at the time," she said regretfully. "Or even more practical questions," she continued apologetically. She knew Zelgadis had been hoping to find his cure in the Claire Bible, but he never even got close to looking at it.

He nodded, accepting her tacit apology.

"I was thinking," Lina continued. "What if this description, about all creatures being a balance of black and gold, order and chaos, is correct?" She looked at Zelgadis. "You've been trying to return your body back to normal, but nothing in the shamanistic or white schools has helped, right?" She did not wait for his acknowledgement, since she already knew the answer. "Maybe it isn't working because what everyone knows isn't really the truth," she suggested.

Zelgadis's eyes narrowed, and he held out his hand to Amelia in a silent request for the scrap of parchment. He stared at the words for several moments before he looked up at Lina. "Where did you find this?" he asked intently.

"It was just a bestiary," Lina replied, hoping she did not sound like she was trying to be evasive. She swore inwardly when Zelgadis pinned her with a glare, and then she struggled to not put on her best innocent look, knowing that would make him more suspicious, so she just shrugged instead.

"So if you think there's some truth to this," Zel finally said, indicating the words on the parchment, "what do you think it means?"

Lina was glad that he seemed willing to let her evade his question, but something in his eyes made her certain that it was only a matter of time before he started to push her. "I'm not sure yet," she admitted. "That's why I wanted to ask you about it." She definitely had ideas, though.

"But Miss Lina," Amelia said, sounding puzzled, "if this idea were true, wouldn't it mean that chimeras as we know them wouldn't be possible?"

"Not necessarily," Lina objected reasonably. "First of all, most of what we know about chimeras focuses on the 'how,' not the 'why.'" She looked at Zelgadis, who nodded in confirmation. "Chimeras are more the result of trial and error, rather than any understanding of underpinning theories. Secondly," she continued, "both theories are based on the idea of four aspects: earth, fire, water, and wind—the basic elements of shamanism; or black, gold, chaos and order. It's possible that the reason we think chimeras work is not the reason that they do."

"So did this bestiary give you any clue as to what black, gold, order, and chaos are supposed to mean?" Zel asked.

"No," Lina replied in disgust. "The author seemed to assume that the reader would automatically understand." She stared off into space for a moment. "Either he was pulling on an idea that was really common at some point, or he was just a wacko."

Zelgadis snorted in response.

Lina ignored it. "Still," she continued, "Even if the author was just a wacko, aren't you curious about where our current ideas come from?"

"Not particularly," Zel shrugged.

Lina resisted the urge to scream at him in frustration for being so dense. This was really important, not just to her, but potentially to him as well. With effort, she forced herself to calm down. "Even if it has the potential to lead to your cure?" she asked incredulously, pleased that her own inner frustration was not fully evident in her tone.

"You know I'd do anything for my cure," Zel said with equanimity. "I'm just not all that interested in creation stories."

Lina stared at him, flabbergasted. "If you're not interested in understanding, how do you know if you've already missed the clue you need for your cure?"

* * *

Zelgadis followed his companions, deep in thought. Lina would probably say he was brooding, and he was honest enough with himself at least to admit that she if she were to say so, she would be right. At the moment, however, she was chatting happily with Amelia about something.

Her comment at breakfast had bothered him more than he cared to admit. Even to himself. His cure. He knew he was close to being obsessed with it. Aside from the time he spent serving as Amelia's bodyguard and escort, he devoted every waking moment to trying to figure out how to turn his body back to his fully human self. The more time he spent with Amelia, the more desperately he wanted it, so much so that it drowned out any other consideration, even Amelia's feelings.

He wanted to give Amelia his feelings. Unfortunately, there was very little to give. Oh, the emotions were there, certainly. But the physical feelings . . . he knew that he should feel at the very minimum, burning lust to have a beautiful and desirable woman sharing a room with him. At best, he felt something muted and far away: like an afterthought so easily dismissed. Hunger, sleepiness, lust . . . none of them seemed to impact him the way they should. He so desperately wanted to feel the needs of the body again!

Had he been so focused on any particular method to undo Rezo's transformation to his body that he had missed the larger framework that might have offered a clue? He had studied medical treatises, bestiaries, notes and notes on research devoted to developing chimeras, hoping for a clue to his condition. Unfortunately, nothing had even come close. His initial reaction to the scrap of parchment Lina had shown him was dismissal. The words did not fit his conception of the universe, so he had dismissed them as unhelpful. Had he dismissed other potential leads without giving them due consideration? After listening to Lina this morning, he almost felt like he was his own worst enemy in his quest for a cure. He half considered asking for her help.

But he did not.

And there was a very good reason he did not.

He was pretty sure that Gourry had guessed it. In spite of his seemingly vacuous memory, very little got past Gourry's steady gaze. If Gourry did know, he never mentioned it, even obliquely, for which Zelgadis was eternally grateful. Asking Lina for help would mean revealing everything to her. Not an option.

Would it be worth sacrificing pride and dignity if it meant his cure?

Zelgadis tried not to cringe inside. If he had asked himself that question a year ago, the answer would have been a definitive 'no.' Now, he was not sure. Still, it would do no harm to help Lina research her current theory. It was not like he had any stronger leads to follow at the moment anyways. If she seemed close to something useful, then he could decide how much—if anything—to tell her.

Watching her chat with Amelia and ignore Gourry, who seemed oblivious to the fact that he was being ignored . . . he wondered what their game was. He may not have Gourry's powers of observations, but he still saw plenty. Their meals were about three quarters normal food fight, and one quarter excuses to touch and even feed each other. Something about Gourry flirting with the waitress had made Lina pretty happy, although there was an undercurrent of something else that he had not quite been able to identify. That whole scene had upset Amelia a great deal, and most of his attention had been on her. He was not sure exactly why, but she really wanted Lina and Gourry to be together.

"So, Miss Lina," Amelia suddenly asked, "how did you sleep last night?"

Instantly, Gourry went from oblivious to focused.

Without any hesitation, Lina stretched her arms over her head. "Pretty good," she said with a smile, "considering that Gourry snores like you wouldn't believe."

"I can't believe anyone could snore worse than you, Miss Lina," Amelia responded pertly.

"What was that?" Lina growled with mock ferocity.

Amelia threw her hands up in surrender. "I didn't mean it!" she protested with feigned innocence. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and then they both started laughing. Amelia hooked her arm in Lina's. "I'm so glad you're coming with us all the way back to Seyruun," she said with a happy smile.

Lina returned the smile. "Can't pass up the opportunity to poke around in the Seyruun Royal Library," she replied. "Plus there's all those perks of being friends with the royal—" she broke off suddenly, staring at the road in front of her.

They all stared.

Just ahead of them, the road split into a fork. One branch followed the Cylte River toward the southern side of the demesne of Lim. The other branch led to the bridge that crossed the Cylte and led toward Seyruun.

Except that the bridge was no longer there. They had crossed that bridge on the way out. It had been high quality stone craftsmanship, with graceful arches spanning the river, resting on pylons that had been driven deep into the riverbed to keep the bridge stable even when the river ran violently due to spring time run-off. Now, there was nothing to indicate that there had ever been a bridge there, save the shadow of pylons, just barely visible under the rushing water of the Cylte.

The missing bridge was nothing compared to the carnage.

Amelia rushed forward, searching for survivors or anyone who might be in need of help, as unlikely as that seemed. Zelgadis was marginally aware that Lina was still staring in shock. Both he and Gourry drew their swords, alert to any potential danger.

His first thought was that it had been a merchant caravan. There were smashed bits of wagons scattered along the road at the embankment. As Zelgadis ran to catch up with Amelia, he noticed small fragments of scorched wool everywhere: it floated through the air and coated the ground. Unfortunately, it did not hide the bodies.

They were also in fragments. Scattered limbs of all sizes: hands, fingers there. Half of a foot over there. Shattered bone fragments peeked through gore. Skulls that had been torn open, revealing the brains within. And everywhere, flocks of carrion gorged: large ravens with vicious beaks hopped leisurely from morsel to morsel, ignoring their appearance. For a moment, Zelgadis was thankful that the physical feelings of the body were so muted. Otherwise, he would probably be puking up his guts right now, instead of feeling mildly nauseous. Amelia suddenly bolted to the edge of the clearing, her shoulders heaving. Gourry looked very grim, as if he were keeping himself under control by dint of sheer will alone. Lina's face was as white as chalk, and she was staring at the ground by her feet.

Amelia stood up slowly and wiped her mouth. "Who would do something like this to merchants?" she asked, her voice sounding sick.

"No," Lina said so softly it was barely audible. "Not merchants." Her eyes did not waver from the spot of the ground she was staring at. "Not merchants," she repeated a bit louder. "A family."

Zelgadis finally realized what she was staring at. It was the severed arm of an infant. A few feet away lay the crushed upper torso of a woman. He could see shattered ribs and pulpy spongy flesh that could only be lungs. Amelia fell to her hands and knees and immediately started heaving uncontrollably. Zelgadis quickly went to her side and knelt next to her. Since she had already emptied the contents of her stomach at the edge of the clearing, nothing came up except for a frothy bile. She coughed weakly between spasms, but seemed unable to bring herself under control. He felt the edges of panic and was wondering what to do when she suddenly turned toward him, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest to muffle her sobs. Zelgadis did the only thing he could think of: he held her and stroked her hair.

He was vaguely aware that Gourry went over to Lina and that they had a short conversation, although he had no idea what they said. Gourry headed down the embankment toward the river, and Lina stayed where she was a bit longer before she started moving around. Most of his attention was focused on Amelia. He knew there was very little he could do for her, aside from just holding her, but it seemed to be enough. Amelia's sobs had transformed to sniffles and the occasional hitch of her shoulders before Zelgadis realized that his other companions had begun the gruesome work of gathering the bodies for burial. Lina had pulled out one of the groundsheets they used when they camped out. It seemed like she was planning to use it as a communal shroud. After a few moments, he nudged Amelia gently. She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, but brimming with anger and purpose. "We should help," he suggested softly.

Amelia took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before nodding.

By the time they had finished gathering the fragments of the bodies together, they were all feeling sick at heart. Altogether, there were six bodies: an elderly woman; an adult male and female; two young children, and the infant. Lina's initial appraisal seemed to be spot on. He wanted to ask her how she had known so quickly, but the few times he had started, Gourry had interrupted him. It was nothing obvious: a question about the best place to bury the family; a comment about the height of the river. Each time, Zel had caught the way Gourry's eyes had flicked between him and Lina. She was still chalk-white, and there was something in the way her eyes were unfocused as she went about the task of sorting fragments of bodies to make them recognizable as distinct people . . . he hoped that she was just in shock. The alternative scared him a great deal.

Once they finished burying the family, Gourry led them downstream a bit until he found a point where the river had formed a small inlet where the current was not as strong. He led Lina into the water. Almost mechanically, she started stripping out of her clothes. Zelgadis averted his eyes and considered looking for another inlet, but Amelia had already plunged into the water and was vigorously scrubbing at the blood and gore that stained her skin and clothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lina toss her clothes onto the grassy bank before she moved out into the stronger current. He tensed up, until he noticed that Gourry was watching her very closely. Knowing that the other man would keep her safe or let them know if he needed help, Zelgadis focused on his own ablutions.

The water was bitter cold: it was something he could recognize, but like all physical sensation, it was something that seemed so distant, almost like it had nothing quite to do with him. Amelia's teeth were chattering, and he could see that her arms were covered in gooseflesh. As soon as she was out of the water, she used Lina's trick with a low-powered fireball to dry herself off and warm up.

In spite of the temperature, Lina showed no sign of discomfort as she stood in the rapid current. Given how much she tended to whine—not to mention burn down forests, or melt frozen lakes in an effort to use her magic to stay warm—any time the weather took a turn for the colder, her seeming obliviousness was just as troubling as the unfocused look in her eyes.

"Do you think Miss Lina is okay," Amelia asked very softly. She was also studying their friend closely.

"No," Zelgadis answered honestly, but just as softly.

Amelia was just taking a deep breath to respond, when Lina started wading toward the shore. The moment she saw her bloodstained clothes sitting on the grassy bank, something snapped in her eyes. Survival instincts kicked in immediately, and Zelgadis had no sooner pulled Amelia and himself out of the way before the inferno hit, turning her clothes and the surrounding embankment—including the spot where they had just been standing—into fine gritty ash.

He wished he could say with confidence that the attack had been typical Lina short-sightedness: that she had been targeting her clothes and uncaring about any collateral damage. Unfortunately he had caught the look in her eyes. As her gaze slid quickly over him and Amelia, she had focused on them with a look a pure hatred, and then she launched her spell. No matter that her clothes had been in the center of the blast. He was certain that in that brief moment, she had been hoping to hit the two of them as well.

Gourry took her by the elbow then, and guided her out of the water and up the bank. Somehow, he got her to sit while he dug through her pack for some spare clothes. Then he knelt in front of her and snapped his fingers so that she focused on his hand. Slowly he raised his hand, bringing it up so that her eyes rose to meet his. "Lina." He spoke softly, but in an otherwise normal tone of voice. "We need to get to the other side of the river."

Lina shuddered, but she nodded and started pulling her spare clothes on over her still soaking shift. Then she stood up and looked over at Zel and Amelia. Her face wore a slightly confused expression, but other than that, she looked mostly normal—at least in expression. Her complexion had improved moderately: now instead of looking chalk-white, she was only pasty. "C'mon," she said to them, sounding subdued. "I want to check out the pylons." Without waiting for an answer, she took Gourry's hand, pulled him effortlessly into the air, and headed back upstream.

Amelia started to follow, but he grabbed her elbow before she could lift off the ground. She looked at him quizzically.

Zelgadis tried to pull his thoughts into some semblance of order. He was still reeling with anger and shock over Lina's latest attack. He was also trying to tell himself that that hollow pounding of his heart had nothing to do with being afraid of one of his closest friends and for another. "Do you think," he suggested slowly, "we should split up from them?"

Amelia looked at him for a long time before answering. "You don't trust Mr. Gourry?" she finally asked.

"Gourry?" he spluttered in shocked surprise. "He's not the—"

"The dangerous one?" she interrupted, sounding angry.

Zelgadis nodded curtly, his face composing itself into the cool mask that had been less and less effective with her the more time they spent together. "This is the second time in as many days that Lina," he paused slightly for emphasis after pronouncing Lina's name before he continued, "has tried to attack you."

"I still don't think she knew it was me," Amelia insisted stubbornly, but her eyes were snapping with righteous indignation. "Our friend is in trouble, and you want to leave?" She shook her head emphatically. "That's wrong, Mr. Zelgadis."

"You know how dangerous she can be, even under normal circumstances," Zel bit out in frustration. "This isn't about a friend in trouble, this is about trying to keep you safe."

"No," Amelia responded firmly. "You can't tell me that Miss Lina is more dangerous than Zanaffar or Gaav or Hellmaster." She paused for a moment, silently daring him to contradict her. "She's our friend," she continued, "and something is bothering her. And I think she needs our help. That stuff she was talking about this morning . . . I got the feeling that was as much for her as it was for you." She paused again. "Besides, I trust Mr. Gourry to keep her under control." Then she smiled at him, "and I trust our reflexes to keep us safe."

Zelgadis suppressed a sigh, knowing that he had already lost this particular argument.

"C'mon," Amelia took his hand in hers. "Let's go see what has Miss Lina so interested in the bridge pylons."

* * *

Gourry quietly led Lina up to their room. He knew that Zelgadis was dying to take him aside and grill him about Lina's behavior. He felt he owed both Amelia and Zelgadis some sort of explanation . . . even if he was not exactly sure he could give them the answers they wanted, for a variety of reasons. But. Almost all of his attention was focused on Lina, assessing her mood and trying to get them all through the day in one piece, to get them to a point where she could let go of the barriers and defenses she had been putting up since they found the family by the river. There was no way he was going to let her out of sight and hearing, something that would be necessary to satisfy Zelgadis. Not even for an instant.

With a sigh, he closed the door, wishing they had enough money to afford an inn with attached baths. Lina was so clenched up, a soak in hot water would help her—in many different ways. Unfortunately, they had arrived in the village well after dark, and they had been lucky to find an inn that was still accepting custom, let alone one that had two available rooms for the four of them. He tossed their gear onto the bed closest to the door, and then started tugging Lina to the other bed.

She resisted for a moment, pulling herself free. First she went to the door and whispered the spell that he assumed was locking it. Then she turned around, leaned against the door, and folded her arms across her chest. She was trying to look relaxed, but Gourry could see the way her hands clenched around her elbows, even in the dim light.

"Lina," he said softly.

Something flickered across her face too quickly to identify. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his embrace. This time, she did not resist. But she did not relax, either. In fact, she felt like a lute string that had been tightened to the point of snapping. Instinctively, he knew that she had clenched herself up so much, the only thing she could do was clench herself up even more. Even as he stroked her back, he felt her tension increase and her muscles start to quiver from the strain.

Trusting to his instincts—the only thing he could do when it came to Lina—he briskly stripped her out of her clothes and gently pushed her face down on the bed. He rummaged around in his pack until he found a bottle of liniment. As he poured some into his hands, the aroma of camphor and rosemary filled the tiny room. He let his body heat warm the thick liquid for a moment before smoothing it onto Lina's back, his fingers identifying the worst points of tension.

It took longer than he thought it would, and he had used up at least a good third of the bottle before the muscles in Lina's back finally started to relax. Then he moved on to her legs. As he worked his fingers into the knotted muscles of her thighs, Lina suddenly let out a deep shuddering sigh. And then another one.

"I'm scared, Gourry," she admitted, whispering against the sheets.

Unsure of how to respond to that, he settled for saying nothing as he continued to work along her legs. He had felt a lot of the tension fade with her sighs and her admission. Not all of it, but at least it no longer felt like she was about to snap from strain. As his fingers massaged the tension out of her flesh, he considered her words. Considered what had brought her so close to snapping in the first place. And sighed as he reached a possible conclusion. "Are you pregnant," he asked softly, struggling to keep his tone neutral.

It was her turn for silence. Then she answered just as quietly and neutrally, "It's possible. I'm more than a week late." She craned her neck to see his reaction.

Gourry tried to figure out what he was feeling. Was it possible to be ecstatic and terrified at the same time?

"I'm not sure yet," she cautioned, holding his eyes. "I might just be late."

All his instincts screamed that he should be terrified at the prospect of Lina being pregnant. She had made it clear why she wanted to hide the fact that they were sleeping together; a child would not only make it impossible to hide, but also created another weakness for any who hoped to use her powers for their own ends. In spite of that, giddiness was winning out, and he knew he was grinning like a loon. He pulled her onto his lap and rested a hand low on her belly while he kissed her, needing an outlet for the happiness surging through him. Otherwise, he would start swinging her around the room and shouting. Not the best way to keep a secret.

He could feel her relaxing even more under his kiss. But again, not completely.

"Gourry," she said slowly after pushing him away a bit. He could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Lina," he responded, hugging her to him. "I know it's just a possibility. I know you're scared—I am, too. I know there's a lot you're going to have to think about, a lot of things we're going to have to do to protect our child. I know there are problems." He released her slightly and tilted her head so that he could look into her eyes. "Tonight, be happy with me," he urged.

She returned his look for several moments. Then she smiled affectionately. "I think I can manage that," she murmured as she pulled his head down for another kiss.

It was much later when the need to sleep started to outstrip their desire to celebrate. As Lina cuddled up in his arms, she suddenly snorted. "You're gonna have to up your flirting with the maids tomorrow to hide this," she commented. She twisted around to look at him. "That was absolutely brilliant, you know," she said in an annoyed tone. "I so wanted to kill you for it, but it was brilliant nonetheless."

Gourry allowed himself a rare predatory grin. "I'm glad you appreciate the efforts and sacrifices I make for you," he teased.

Lina snorted again. "'Sacrifice,' my ass. I saw the look in your eyes. I _know_ that look. You were enjoying every moment," she accused.

"Jealous?" he asked, feeling surprised and flattered.

"A real gentleman would deny it," she sniffed, neatly avoiding his question.

He resisted the urge to sigh at the tangle of emotions he could sense in her: admiration, practicality, jealousy, resentment, possessiveness . . . they were all there, swirling around in her eyes. "I'm a guy," he pointed out the obvious. "Of course I'm going to get that look after having female flesh pressed up against me. If I didn't, it would probably mean that I'm dead." She took a deep breath to answer, but he cut her off by placing a finger over her lips. "And if I didn't, Zel and Amelia would really wonder what the hell we were up to."

Lina chewed on her lip, only marginally mollified. Once again, he knew they were not the words she had been hoping for. He pushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. "It doesn't matter how my body reacts to other women," he said intently, "because you're the one I want. The only one I want." There was more he wanted to say, but apparently, those were the right words: the ones she wanted to hear.

"You can keep flirting with the maids," she said lightly, "to keep Zel and Amelia off our backs. But just you remember," her tone shifted, became fierce, as she pushed herself up onto her elbow, "you're _mine_. You got that, Gourry? _Mine_."

"Shall I have 'Property of Lina Inverse' tattooed somewhere on my body to make you happy?" he teased, trying to deflect the intensity of what he saw in her eyes, because there was no way he was going to be able to perform that way again tonight.

"I'll figure something out," Lina said in a sultry voice as her hand slipped down along his torso.

"Uh . . . Lina . . . ?" he captured her questing hand in his.

She smiled beatifically at him then. "You're the one who taught me that the sex is just a bonus," she reminded him.

With fingers, lips, and tongue, she gave him a thorough demonstration of what she had learned, leaving him awash in sensual pleasure that came from the touch of a lover.

* * *

Amelia eased herself into the hot water with a sigh, feeling her muscles relax almost against their will. With any luck, a good long soak would rinse away the memories of the previous day and would provide enough rest to give the illusion that she had not spent a mostly sleepless night sharing a room with . . . Zelgadis. She shivered happily and hugged her knees. Last night, he had insisted that she drop the polite designation. He said it made her sound like a little girl, and his tone of voice indicated that he saw her as anything but.

And then he had rolled himself into his bed with his face resolutely toward the wall.

After placing his sword on the floor again.

On any other day, she might have taken it as a challenge. Not when her thoughts whirled chaotically between images of brutal slaughter and the burning desire to bring to justice the miscreants who had dared perpetrate such villainy on the borders of Seyruun.

After spending much of the night tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position, and at best falling into a half doze, Zelgadis had asked her if she wanted to talk about it.

They had spent the rest of the night exchanging impressions and arguing about interpretations. He wanted to know what was going on with Lina. She did too, but she was more interested in piecing together scattered clues to figure out the identities of victims and villains. He thought she was wasting her time.

By dawn, they had exhausted most conversational angles, but she was still too keyed up to sleep, in spite of the deep ache in her legs that she always got when physically tired. It did feel good to scrub away the residue of the day before. Their ablutions in the cold water had been sufficient to remove bloodstains and worse from their clothes, but it did not leave her feeling truly cleansed. She knew she should have sought out the cavernous bathing area in the basement of the inn the night before, but it had been so late, and she had thought she was too tired to move.

Amelia allowed herself to semi-float in the water. With an effort, she forced herself to let go of conscious thought and focus on the now: the soft lap of water against the edge of the bathing pool; the almost ethereal wisps of steam that occasionally wafted along the surface of the water; the warmth of the water supporting her body; the humidity of the air; the flickering of a scant few oil lamps that barely penetrated the darkness.

Once she had successfully quieted her conscious mind, she slipped naturally into the calm meditative state taught to all shrine maidens. She floated in the eternal now, open to all possibilities without expectation of any.

The creak of a door opening and the soft slap of bare feet against the floor brought her back to herself. Following the tenets of her training, she grounded herself by focusing on the sensations that surrounded her for a few moments. With a smile and a happy sigh, she let go of conscious control, allowing her thoughts to wander where they may. In marked contrast to the chaotic whirling that had dominated the night, she felt relaxed and refreshed—if not exactly rested. At least she felt like she had some sense of direction.

The first order of business was to get back to the capital as soon as possible. Her father needed to be informed so that reconstruction on the destroyed bridge could start as soon as possible, and so she could pass on the message from Jeremiah. If things went well, she hoped to be placed in charge of the reconstruction efforts. No more innocent families would be needlessly slaughtered on her watch! It would have been better to conduct a thorough investigation yesterday, but given Lina's obvious distress, her well-being was more important. And, as Zelgadis had pointed out to her, the best clues had likely already been disposed of by the carrion.

Amelia felt torn between the desire to help Lina and the need to protect the people of her kingdom. She wished she knew what had pushed Lina so off-balance. Gourry had pretty much kept both her and Zelgadis away from Lina, although now that she thought about it, she was not exactly sure how he had managed to do it. In spite of the seriousness of their situation, watching the single-minded devotion he had shown to Lina the day before had made her hope that they would finally be honest about their feelings. If she ever caught Gourry flirting with random waitresses again, she was going to give him a thorough speech about the injustice of his acts. And she would give Lina one as well, for not kicking sense into him for pulling a stunt like that.

No sooner had she come to that conclusion when Lina entered the room. She stopped, surprised to see another person, but she seemed to recover quickly. "Oh, 'morning, Amelia," she said as she slipped into the hot water. She sounded really tired.

"You're up early," Amelia commented. She looked closely at her friend in the dim flickering light. Lina seemed to be avoiding eye contact, and there was a rather grim set to her lips. "Did you have another nightmare," she asked gently.

Lina shrugged noncommittally, hugging her knees and resting her forehead on them. She sat quietly for several moments. Amelia could tell that she was debating something, and knew from experience that it would be best to wait her out. Finally, Lina sighed softly. "Amelia," she asked, sounding very subdued, "have you ever had a prescient dream?"

"Do you mean a dream where you see the future, or a dream that is a message from the gods?" Amelia asked in a neutral tone.

Lina shrugged again. "Both," she said. "Either."

Actually, her question served little purpose, except to clarify Miss Lina's question. The answer was the same, either way. "No," she answered easily. "Some of the higher ranked shrine maidens have received prophecy, though."

"Prophecy isn't usually a dream, though," Lina pointed out. "And from what I understand, prophecy is generally so randomly specific as to be useless."

"I wouldn't go that far," Amelia objected. "Not all prophecy is useless." Then she sighed. "But you're right. Prophecy is random, and usually it takes the form of a waking vision, rather than a dream."

"But they do exist," Lina pressed. "Prescient dreams. At least, so the old legends tell us."

"They do," Amelia agreed. "They're pretty rare, though. There hasn't been a true Dreamer in several generations, at least that I know of."

"True," it was Lina's turn to agree. "But . . ." she trailed off and focused on the tiny whirls she was forming in the water with her fingers. "Would you know how to recognize a prescient dream?" she finally asked.

"Depends," Amelia answered. Something about Lina's question threatened to shatter the equanimity she had just achieved moments earlier. "If it's just a vision of the future, the only way to know is to wait and see if—and exactly how—it comes true. Most people don't believe that dreams can really predict the future. They're more about our wishes and fears than anything else. We dream about what we desire—or fear—and our actions and choices bring such things into reality."

Lina nodded slowly, as she stared into space. Amelia unconsciously held her breath, wondering if that would be enough to satisfy her friend. It was not that the rest was exactly secret, she just had the strangest feeling . . .

Abruptly Lina turned and looked Amelia in the eyes with a very serious expression. "Have you been trained in Dream Walking?"

"Not fully," Amelia admitted with a slight frown. If Miss Lina knew about Dream Walking, she already had the answers to her questions. It was possible that she was just seeking confirmation of what she knew, but Amelia doubted it. Amelia wondered where she got her information. The knowledge and training was typically reserved for those shrine maidens who had fully dedicated their life to a particular shrine, but she had been given some tutoring in the basic methods and theoretical understanding of more advanced techniques—rank did have its privileges.

"Can you train me," Lina asked intently, confirming Amelia's fears.

"How much do you know?" Amelia countered, trying to buy time while she figured out how to diplomatically refuse the request.

"Dream Walking is a technique that ranges from simple self-awareness—the ability to recall one's dreams, for example," Lina replied promptly. It sounded like she was reciting from a textbook. "At more advanced levels, the Dream Walker learns to control and manipulate first their own dreams, and then the dreams of others. At the final stages, the Dream Walker is able to manipulate reality on the Astral side."

"No," Amelia answered resolutely, rejecting diplomacy. Lina seemed a little too interested in the final stages, and that made her request dangerous.

"Why not?" Lina asked. At least she sounded genuinely curious, instead of upset.

"For two reasons," Amelia responded in the same firm tone. "First, you already know pretty much what I know, so there's not much I can teach you. Second, you know too much about the advanced levels for it to be safe for someone with my limited skills to be able to train you." She took a deep breath. "Dream Walking alters the connection between your physical and astral body. If it's not done exactly right, it's easy to damage that connection." She felt she owed her friend at least that much of an explanation.

Lina's eyes took on a far-off unfocused quality. The she asked, "Do you think that you could arrange for me to be trained?" Although she did not allow it to color her tone, Amelia could see the desperation in her eyes.

"Because of your nightmares?" Amelia asked gently.

Lina shuddered at the question, and even in the dim light, Amelia could see the blood drain out of her face. "Among other things," she answered softly.

"Miss Lina, can't you—"

"Not yet," Lina interrupted harshly. Then she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I know I haven't told anyone much of anything." She paused, and then sighed. "Honestly, I'm not sure of anything right now. The dreams might be just like you said: echoes of my hopes and fears, and nothing more."

"But you don't think so," Amelia noted what she thought was the obvious.

Lina shrugged in response, the move oddly self-deprecating. "I don't even know if I can trust myself anymore," she said with a snort. "All I know is that if it is all just in my head, the worst that can happen by me keeping it to myself is that you guys get annoyed at me for keeping secrets."

"And if it's not?" Amelia pressed.

Lina looked directly at her. "What's the worst you can imagine?" she asked, her tone deathly serious.

* * *

The inn they had chosen the night before boasted a nice-sized courtyard. There was a small patio with tables and chairs where guests could enjoy refreshments or a meal, and a larger area surrounded with a hip-level wall and filled with sand and wood mulch. Whatever the owners had intended for the space, it currently was serving as a sparring field. Zelgadis could see a couple pairs working on their techniques with wooden practice dowels, including—much to his surprise—Lina and Gourry. He made his way over to the table where Amelia sat toying with the remains of her breakfast. He ordered a coffee from a passing waitress as he seated himself and then turned his attention back to the pair on the sparring field.

"How long has that been going on?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Amelia pushed fragments of melon rinds around on her plate, swirling them in the remains of syrup. "They've been at it for about an hour. Looks like they've done this before," she said, sounding rather distracted.

A waitress placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of Zel. He sipped at the brew, luxuriating in the sensation of heat sliding down into his body. It was one of the few ways his body could feel, and he tended to take every available opportunity to remind himself that he could still feel. Unfortunately, taste was something also denied him, but given the raw odor of the coffee, he was not really missing much.

The thwack of wood against wood was constant. Zel watched Lina parry a couple of Gourry's attacks, her face a mask of intense concentration. Then Gourry launched a rapid series of blows. Lina reacted initially well, turning aside his 'blade,' but as the attack continued, unrelenting, it was clear she was being pushed out of her rhythm. A couple of moves later, Gourry neatly disarmed her, catching her practice sword in his hand. Much to Zel's surprise, instead of getting angry or frustrated, Lina held her hand out to Gourry for her sword with a self-deprecating smile, as she asked him something that did not carry far enough for him to hear. Gourry returned her smile and her sword, and then stood behind her to position her body, much the way he had with their waitress the day before.

"What the—" Zel burst out before he could stop himself.

Amelia looked up and followed his gaze. "That," she said dismissively. "They've been doing that all morning. You should've seen what happened when Mr. Gourry put Miss Lina in the dirt. After disarming her, he lay down on top of her, pinning her arms and looked for all the world like he was going to—" Amelia broke off and bit her lip.

"Lina let him get away with that?" Zelgadis asked incredulously.

"They stayed in that position for a bit, just talking, and then Mr. Gourry jumped up and then they started sparring again like nothing had happened," Amelia returned her focus to her breakfast plate and covered the melon rinds with a large leaf of garnish. "All this after Mr. Gourry was practically sucking face with a maid he had pinned to the wall," she said angrily.

Zel found himself spitting coffee across the table. Amelia handed him a napkin. "You caught him kissing a maid?" he asked hesitantly. 'Sucking face' was definitely not a part of Amelia's typical vocabulary, although it was hard to imagine any other intended meaning.

"I said 'practically,'" she corrected. "He said he was helping her get something out of her eye. It sounded so fake, but if he was lying, he was doing a really good job. Miss Lina didn't seem to question it, but . . ." she trailed off, sounding annoyed again.

Zelgadis tried to process all the information he was receiving, wondering what the hell was going on. His eyes drifted back over to the sparring field, and he studied the way Lina and Gourry were interacting. Even knowing them as well as he did, they seemed the same as always. Ever since he had known them, they had always worked well together, and they seemed to have some type of connection that allowed them to communicate without words. All he could see were two good friends—who paradoxically seemed to be oblivious to the sexual tension they were generating—going through sparring routines. Lina had always been decently skilled with a sword, but her form seemed to have markedly improved since the last time he had seen her in action. It was true that she would never be in Gourry's league—not that his level of skill was necessary for most situations, particularly since Lina had other options available to her.

As he watched, they finished sparring. Gourry put a companionable arm around Lina as they headed toward the table. Lina flagged a waitress and asked her for a menu before collapsing into the chair next to Zelgadis. Without asking, she grabbed his water glass and drained it in a single draught, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and sighing lustily.

"So," Zelgadis started to say coolly. He was interrupted, however, by the waitress appearing with a couple of menus, and Lina's gleeful rapid-fire ordering of her breakfast. Once he was sure he could hold her attention—at least until the food started arriving—he tried again. "How long have you been practicing sword-play with Gourry?"

Lina looked over at Gourry affectionately. "It's been a couple months now, or so," she said easily. "Gourry said it would be good for me to improve my form."

Zel filed away the information that Lina's seemingly new interest in sword-play was actually Gourry's idea.

"Besides," Lina continued. "Since the Ragna Blade is my strongest spell, improving my form with a blade is probably a good idea."

Any comment he might have made in response was eclipsed by the arrival of breakfast. At least the ensuing food fight was mostly confined to their side of the table. Being spattered with scrambled eggs and other assorted breakfast foods had never been his favorite way to start the day.

He was debating on whether or not to order another cup of coffee when Gourry suddenly yelled, "Lina, you almost bit off my finger!"

"'Almost' doesn't count for anything," she replied cheekily, but her eyes were smoldering.

The moment passed so quickly, Zelgadis half wondered if he had just imagined the look she had been giving Gourry. A quick glance across the table, however, indicated that Amelia had also seen it. Her face was slightly flushed and she looked dazed. Suddenly, she jumped to her feet. "Are you two together or not?" she demanded, her eyes flicking between Lina and Gourry.

"Awuh . . . ?" Lina asked around a mouthful of pancakes, her fork stalled halfway between her plate and her lips.

Gourry took advantage of her lapse in attention and helped himself to some of her sausages. Predictably, the food fight resumed its course. Amelia stared at the two of them for a few moments. A couple of times, she took a deep breath as if to start saying something, but she appeared to change her mind each time. Finally, she shot him a look that mingled frustration and worry. "I'm going to pack," she announced to no one in particular, although she held his gaze until he acknowledged her with a slight nod.

He watched her pick her way across the patio, weaving among the small tables until she disappeared inside the inn. Part of him wanted to chase after her. The other part of him pointed out that such an activity would be worse than futile. With a ragged sigh, he flagged the waitress for another cup of coffee. Just as it arrived, Lina pushed back her now-empty plate and studied him carefully.

Zel raised an eyebrow in a silent question as he sipped his coffee.

"How much would you be willing to give up to get your body back to normal?" she asked without preamble.

For the second time that morning, he found himself spitting his coffee across the table. "Excuse me?" he asked, not sure if he had reacted out of shock or resentment.

"What would you give up?" she repeated.

He could tell it was no idle question. "Why should I have to give up anything?" he asked coolly.

Lina leaned back in her chair, obviously considering his answer very carefully. Finally she nodded. "That's what I thought," she said cryptically.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

She studied him a few moments more before answering. "How much of your current abilities are tied to that body?" she asked. "Normal humans don't have your kind of speed or stamina, for starters," she pointed out. "And I'd be willing to bet that your capacity for magic is also greatly enhanced in that form. What was your experience of 'normal' before Rezo turned you into a chimera?"

Zelgadis took another sip of coffee in an attempt to cover his dismay.

"Leave him alone, Lina," Gourry said absently as he picked at his teeth with a toothpick.

Lina shot Gourry an annoyed glance and stood up. "You're never going to get what you want if you don't know what you want," she said intently. Then she shoved her chair in and stalked off.

"I want to get Lina a sword," Gourry commented as she disappeared into the inn.

It was such a non sequitur that Zelgadis could only gape at the other man. "What are you two playing at?" he asked as soon as he could gather his wits.

"I wouldn't let what she said worry you," Gourry responded with a sunny smile. "I think she's using you as a guinea pig."

"And I'm supposed to find that reassuring?" Zel demanded, feeling anything but.

Gourry shrugged. "I think she'll do better with something custom made to her size."

Zelgadis mentally counted to ten. Then he took a deep breath and counted to ten again. "So, are you two together or not?" he asked, echoing Amelia's earlier question.

Gourry shrugged again. "We've been together for years," he said calmly. "I don't see any reason to change anything now."

Zelgadis ground his teeth in frustration. "I know how long you've been traveling together," he said slowly through clenched teeth. He was really tired of the deflections and the run-around. Gourry knew damn well what the question was really asking. But fine, if Gourry wanted to play it literally, Zelgadis would phrase it in no uncertain terms. "I meant are you fucking her?"

Instantly, Gourry transitioned from slightly amused and distracted to completely focused. "No," he snarled softly as he stood up abruptly, radiating a quiet fury. No, it was more than that. It was animosity fueled by a prodigious will: the will that had controlled the Sword of Light and turned it into a weapon that sliced through high-ranking monsters with ease. "I don't ever want to hear crap like that again," Gourry finally bit out after the silence had dragged out uncomfortably long. Without waiting for a reply, he stalked off toward the inn.

Zelgadis sat immobile for several moments more, playing and replaying the encounter over in his mind. Damn. He was so used to Gourry's typical easy-going nature, he had forgotten how fiercely he protected Lina. Even after watching him deflect and cover for her for the past few days, and watching him handle her so carefully to keep her from breaking after the affair at the bridge, Zelgadis had still underestimated him.

He just wished he understood what exactly it was about his question that had provoked Gourry to such an unprecedented degree.


	2. Chapter 2: Dying Moon

"I want to see that book," Zelgadis suddenly announced after dinner. They were only a week or so out from Seyruun. As much as Amelia usually enjoyed being with her friends, she found she could not wait to end this particular journey.

It had been about three days since they had crossed the Cylte. Three normal uneventful days. Amelia sighed to herself. Normal. Who was she kidding? Gourry continued to flirt with the waitresses and maids. At least it was pretty clear that the maids and waitresses saw it as flirting. She had caught one of them inviting Gourry to her room that evening, but he had politely declined, looking a bit puzzled. It was the exact same look he had worn when Amelia confronted him about the injustice of flirting when he had someone like Lina. She knew he was clueless sometimes, but . . .

"Which book?" Lina asked nonchalantly.

Lina seemed to be cheerfully oblivious, like she neither noticed nor cared that Gourry was flirting with everything in sight, even when he seemed to be flirting with her. And yet on more than one occasion, Amelia had caught something in her friend's eyes that suggested Lina was anything but oblivious. The look she directed at Gourry in those moments seemed to cause the temperature in the room to shoot up by several degrees and made Amelia incredibly antsy. Those moments were mercifully brief and rare.

"You know damn well which book," Zelgadis growled, placing his hands flat on the edge of the table as if to keep them from throttling Lina.

She had made Amelia promise to talk to the High Priest of Ceiphied in Seyruun to see if he would be willing to train her in Dream Walking. Amelia had warned her that the training would require a considerable time commitment. For the life of her, she could not imagine Lina staying in place for more than a few days, let alone the months that proper training would require. And what did she expect Gourry to do while she was training?

The silence stretched out as Zelgadis glared at Lina while she looked at him speculatively, clearly thinking. "Tomorrow," she finally said. "I'll show it to you in the morning."

And then there were the times when Lina went dangerous. She did nothing quite so dramatic as try to flash fry or otherwise maim her friends, but only because Gourry handled her with such finesse and expertise. He also made sure that any questions she or Zelgadis might have—and they had plenty—were not asked in Lina's hearing. Unfortunately, asking them of Gourry was a fruitless endeavor. Sometimes it was clear he had no answers. Other times, he became ingenuously evasive. It was driving Zelgadis crazy.

"Tomorrow?" Zelgadis echoed incredulously. "Why tomorrow?"

Sharing a room with Zelgadis was about the only good thing about their trip so far, although he still insisted on laying his sword on the floor between them. In spite of the physical gulf—something he scrupulously maintained—they often spent much of the night in conversation, talking about everything and anything: about what was bothering Lina and Gourry's evasiveness; about their favorite foods; childhood memories. Granted, she did most of the talking. His forays into the conversation, especially when it veered into the personal and inconsequential, were always tentative. It was almost as if he was learning how to truly be himself with a friend. As much as she hated seeing that sword on the floor (especially after seeing Lina shoot one of those looks at Gourry), she would take the emotional intimacy for now. Unfortunately, the lengthy nighttime conversations meant that she was going on a lot less sleep than she was accustomed to having, and she knew she was uncharacteristically moody as a result.

"Look." Lina sounded like she was struggling to maintain an even tone. "I said I'd show it to you tomorrow. Be happy I'm showing it to you at all."

Amelia was pretty sure Lina was still having nightmares, just from the haunted look she caught in her friend's eyes every so often. Amelia sympathized, but she was having enough trouble dealing with her own dreams. They were oscillating back and forth between fantasies about Zelgadis that were quickly growing less and less innocent and fragmented memories of what they had found at the banks of the Cylte.

"Why not now," Zelgadis pressed, undaunted. "It's not like we're doing anything important right now."

And that was the other reason she was eager to get back to the capital: she needed to let her father know what had happened. The bridge needed to be rebuilt as soon as possible. The road from Lim to Seyruun was not one of the major highways, but it was still an important artery for both communication and commerce. She knew her father would also want to start the investigations to determine if the brutal slaughter of that family was an isolated incident or something more sinister. Lina had been very unwilling to talk about that incident the few times she or Zelgadis had brought it up. She had even left the table in the middle of a meal once, claiming to be tired.

It was Lina's turn to glare. "What's your rush?" she asked belligerently. "Now or tomorrow, it's not going to make a difference."

"If that's true," Zelgadis responded coolly, "it shouldn't matter whether you show it to me now or later, then."

"Not to you," Lina shot back with a stubborn set to her jaw. "But I've got my reasons!"

"I'm getting really tired of all the secrets, Lina," Zelgadis's tone passed cool and was edging closer to frosty.

"Today, tomorrow, what does it matter?" Gourry put in casually.

"Don't you start in," Lina turned her ire on Gourry. "I'm perfectly capable of—"

"Oh, stop it. All of you," Amelia said in disgust as she stood up. "You're all bickering like a bunch of little kids." She had the brief satisfaction of seeing Lina and Zelgadis gape at her. Then she felt a bit ashamed for her outburst. Not enough to apologize, though. Without another word, she left the table and went outside.

The chill mountain air had a surprising bite to it that was exacerbated by the breeze. She considered going back inside for her cloak. Instead, she hugged her arms around her body for warmth. A thin waning crescent moon was approaching the horizon. Amelia watched the gold sliver descend in the night sky as dirty smoke-gray clouds scudded across its surface with the increasing frequency that presaged a coming storm.

She was not a person who normally sought solitude, but there was something calming about standing in the dark night and watching a storm gathering from the north. It was going to make traveling tomorrow difficult at best, but at the moment, she allowed herself to be comforted by the fact that everything was part of the flow of creation.

Creation.

Amelia ran back into the dining room where she had left her companions. Apparently, they were still arguing. "Miss Lina!" she called breathlessly, interrupting them. "You've got to come see this! Hurry!"

"Amelia . . . What—" she broke off when Amelia grabbed her arm and started tugging on her.

"You've got to come see," Amelia repeated excitedly.

Lina allowed herself to be pulled along. "What is it?" she asked, starting to catch some of Amelia's excitement.

"Just come outside," Amelia urged. "You have to see this for yourself!"

All three of her companions followed her outside. Lina started shivering immediately. Almost as if it were a reflex, Gourry placed his arm around her and pulled her close, sheltering her from the worst bite of the thin breeze.

"What is it?" Lina repeated through teeth clenched to keep them from chattering.

"Look!" Amelia pointed up at the moon. "It's just like that verse you showed us the other day: black and gold, order and chaos!"

Gourry looked confused, no surprise there. Zelgadis seemed annoyed, which also was to be expected. But Lina . . .

She stepped away from Gourry and from the protection offered by the inn to stare intently at the vista of the night sky. After several moments, she looked speculatively at Amelia. "I think you might be on to something," she said slowly. "But let's get back inside, it's freezing out here!"

"Smells like snow," Gourry commented to no one in particular.

"Wonderful," Zelgadis replied sourly as Lina pushed past him, eager to get back to the warmth inside.

The rest of them followed her in as she headed straight for the fireplace in the common room, holding her hands out toward the flames. "Snow tomorrow?" she asked Gourry, sounding disgusted.

Gourry shrugged. "Probably."

"But you're not sure," Lina prodded, as she turned to look at him, her eyes thoughtful.

Gourry shrugged again. "It's the weather," he said as if that were explanation enough.

"Exactly!" Amelia exclaimed.

Lina nodded. "I really do think you're on to something, here, Amelia," she said thoughtfully. Then her gaze slid over Zelgadis. Her face lost all expression, but shadows lurked in her eyes.

Zelgadis took a deep breath to say something, but Lina spoke before he could. "I'm going up to bed," she announced firmly with fake cheerfulness. "See you in the morning!"

"Lina!" Zelgadis called after her, but she gave no indication that she had heard, so he turned on Amelia. "You think the weather stands for chaos?" he asked, nodding at Gourry as he turned to follow Lina upstairs.

"No," she replied slowly, surprised that he did not quite understand. "The weather isn't pure chaos," she pointed out. "It's a blend, right? Order and chaos. That's why we can sometimes predict the weather, but not always."

"And the moon?" he pressed.

"Also a blend," she explained. She had to use all her diplomatic training to keep her surprise from showing in her voice. Zelgadis was the one who was supposed to be strong in theory, not her. "Gold and order. The moon is predictable in its path, in its phases. It's also a source of light in the darkness. 'Creation requires a balance,'" she quoted at him.

Zelgadis shook his head slowly, not in rejection, but in an attempt to process what she was saying. "It does work," he said slowly. "It's just so different from everything I've ever been taught . . ." He shook his head again. "And I'm not quite sure how it can help," he said so softly, she was not sure if he was aware that she had heard.

"I'm sure we—" she started to say, but something in his expression stopped her mid-sentence. With a start of shock, she realized that he had never asked for her help in his quest for his cure. The injustice of it all was suddenly overwhelming. It felt as if years of traveling together, of seeing him as companion, friend, and even something more had been erased and she was looking at a strange and creepy . . . She shook her head forcefully in an unsuccessful attempt to shake the ugly feeling that seemed to ooze through her, blotting out everything else. "You don't trust anyone, do you?" she accused. "That's why you never ask me to come with you."

He stared at her quietly, his face once again assuming that cool mask. But she could see the flickers of panic in his eyes. "Amelia—"

She did not wait for him to finish, for him to once again offer her thin excuses. "You're not the only one tired of all the secrets," she said flatly as she turned to walk away.

* * *

Lina glanced up as Gourry entered the room, and then returned her attention to _The Menagerie_, flipping through the pages with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was going take her forever to deal with all of them.

"How come you don't want Zel to read it?" Gourry asked, nodding at the book as he sat on the bed they had tossed all their gear on and pulled off his boots.

"Oh, I'm fine with him reading the text," she said quickly enough. "It's just the margins . . ." she trailed off, knowing that she was blushing.

"What's wrong with the margins?" Gourry asked with his best clueless look.

Lina almost threw the book at him. She would have, if it had not been a book. "You read one of the stories in the margins," she pointed out, striving to maintain an even tone, which was very difficult to do through clenched teeth.

Gourry shrugged and pulled out his sword, bringing it closer to the light and inspecting it carefully. Lina felt a bit of her annoyance melt away as she watched him go through his nightly ritual. After the visual inspection, he reached for a piece of chamois and ran it lightly over the edge of the blade, feeling for any snags. She doubted he would find one tonight, since he had not used his sword recently, but he always checked. Whenever he found a snag, the whetstone came out immediately to smooth the offending area. Although, he would pull the whetstone out regardless . . .

"Why are you doing that?" she asked suddenly, as she finally made the connection between what she was seeing and what she knew. "Isn't it kind of stupid to spend so much time sharpening the Blast Blade?"

If he heard her question, he gave no indication. He just continued to slide the whetstone over the edge of the blade in long practiced strokes.

"I mean," Lina continued undaunted, "you're trying to sharpen a sword that's magically sharp already; a sword that had to be magically dulled to even become useful!"

Gourry pulled out a small jar of clove oil and started wiping down the blade. "And what makes it magically sharp?" he asked.

"We've been over this," she replied, the coals of her annoyance flaring into renewed life. "The sword absorbs magical energies and transforms them into sharpness," she recited.

Gourry met her gaze. She was surprised to see his own annoyance lurking in his eyes. "And when's the last time I absorbed magical energy with the sword?" he asked, with just a hint of tightness in his voice.

Lina opened her mouth. Closed it. She considered how she would feel if someone said her magical research was stupid. And knew that she owed Gourry an apology.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he both acknowledged her unspoken chagrin and dismissed the entire exchange. Lina watched him a few moments longer, grateful that he chose drop the issue, rather than rub her nose in the fact that she had said something so patently stupid. Unfortunately, watching Gourry tend to his sword was not going to make her task with the book any easier. With a sigh, Lina flipped through the pages again. Not only was this going to take forever, it was going to use up a ton of parchment, even using a merchant hand. Everyone complained about her script, but the simple fact was that a cursive script was faster and made it easier to squeeze more text on a page. And parchment was expensive!

Lina sighed again, and moved to the tiny little table underneath the single window in the room. It was more comfortable to work on the bed when she was just reading and taking notes, but serious writing required sitting at a table. She considered her supplies again, and wondered if she might be able to get away with a modified palimpsest . . .

One thing was certain: the sooner she got started, the sooner she would finish. She picked up her pen and opened _The Menagerie_ to the first page with marked-up margins. Then she closed her eyes and cast the spell that would allow her to transfer the text from the margins onto her spare parchment.

Except nothing happened.

Lina leaned back a bit in her chair, wondering if she had forgotten something. It had been several months since she had used this spell, and that had been when she had originally developed it. She tried again, this time paying closer attention to the words she was reciting under her breath.

Again, nothing.

She blew her bangs out of her eyes in frustration, and then took a deep breath, concentrating intently. Unfortunately, no matter what she seemed to do, the spell refused to work properly. The last time she had used it, she had not even needed to be close to her source, and the spell went off without a hitch. After struggling to no avail for several moments, she started tugging violently on her hair in frustration. She wanted to scream or maybe fireball something into oblivion. Instead, she glared at the book on the table for having the temerity to defy her.

"Problem?" Gourry asked with his typical air-headed gift for colossal understatement.

Lina turned her glare on him. "Yes," she bit out acidly, "there's a problem. I need to get all these stories out of the margins, and not a single one I've targeted will so much as budge," she said in disgust.

"Why?"

"Why?" she echoed, her voice climbing registers and approaching a shriek.

"Yeah, why?" he repeated, looking puzzled.

"So help me, Gourry," she grated out, "if you are messing with me, I'll—"

"You'll what?" he interrupted. Despite his bland expression, it was clearly a challenge.

Ordinarily, she would have responding with something suitably scathing: some threat of bodily harm that stopped just short of maiming. Before she could select the appropriate threat, a very vivid image flashed before her mind's eye. She knew she was seeing Gourry, although there was nothing about him that was recognizable. His long blond hair had been scorched to the roots, revealing wicked burns that were blistered and oozing. His eyes had been ripped out; nose and ears torn off, leaving gaping holes . . .

Lina swallowed hard, willing herself to not see the rest of the nightmare image, but it was there, nonetheless: the maimed hands with bloody hacked off stumps where fingers used to be . . . and lower still . . . his genitals had been hacked off with a jagged blade, all because she—

The loud snap of fingers demanded her attention, and she desperately seized upon the distraction. Instead of a nightmare vision, she saw hands that were whole. Almost of their own accord, her fingers rose to his face: to trace the line of his brow, his nose, his lips. As if she needed both the tactile and the visual reassurance that what she was seeing was real.

"Lina?" he asked softly.

So many questions left unspoken. So many questions she was not sure how to answer, or even if she could.

"What's wrong with Zel seeing the margins?" he asked as he tugged her away from the table and onto his lap.

It was not the question he wanted to ask. She allowed herself the luxury of feeling safe and reassured in his arms, and deliberately pushed away her fears to focus on the distraction he had offered. She sighed as she tried to sort out all the tangled feelings and thoughts that swirled inside of her. "Do you remember what you read in the margins of that book?" she finally asked.

"Of course," he replied, his words a verbal caress. "That was the night I finally seduced you," he continued in the same tone that sent shivers down her spine. "Nothing could make me forget that."

"Well, that's why I don't want him to see," she said, striving for an even tone while burying her face in his chest.

Gourry tilted her chin up so that he could look in her eyes. "You know they already suspect," he pointed out in a reasonable tone. "I doubt seeing smut in the margins of a random book is going to give them proof positive."

Lina knew she was blushing. "It's just . . ." she trailed off, unsure how to articulate the tangled swirl of her feelings. Embarrassment that Zel might think she was reading smut; the overpowering need to keep their friends from knowing the truth about the exact nature of her current relationship with Gourry; a surge of possessiveness because the book was tied up with something so personal, so powerful . . .

"So that's why," Gourry murmured softly, as if he understood everything she could not say. Somehow, Lina was certain that he did. "If it's any help," he said in a normal tone, "I really don't think Zel will be interested in the margins."

"Why not?" Lina asked, sensing there was something more under his words.

Gourry shrugged, deliberately nonchalant. "He just doesn't seem all that interested in sex," he replied.

"You tried to talk to him about sex?" Lina pressed, her interest piqued.

"No," he responded quickly—too quickly in Lina's opinion. "It's just . . ." he trailed off.

"It's just . . ." she prompted.

The silence stretched out. Gourry's eyes burned into her, and she could actually see him considering and choosing his words carefully, although she had no idea why he felt the need. "He's never taken matters into hand," he finally offered.

For the briefest of moments, she considered asking him how he could be so sure. It definitely explained some of Amelia's early morning behavior of late. She filed that information away to deal with later. There was something she found much more interesting at the moment. "And you have?" she asked archly.

"I'm a guy," he pointed out, as if that explained everything. She decided not to point out that Zelgadis was also a guy.

"I'm very aware of that," she said huskily, with slight emphasis on the 'very.' "What I want to know," she continued slowly as her hand snaked around his neck, "is if you thought about me."

She expected him to blush. She wanted to see him blush. Instead, the burn of his blue eyes became even more intense, and a wicked smile bloomed on his lips. "Do you want me to describe them?" he challenged.

It was not what she expected, but curiosity burgeoned. For years, he had managed to fully convince her that he thought of her as some kid sister. The fact that yogurt-for-brains Gourry had been able to do that still rankled. She wanted to know what he had been hiding. "Yes," she said simply, issuing her own challenge.

Something shifted in his eyes. Again, she could see him considering. She almost held her breath, half wondering if she was going to hear some tasteless broken rendition.

Then he started speaking. Although his words were simple, they were neither halting nor tasteless. And although it was brief, there was nothing gentle about the fantasy of seduction he shared with her. His eyes held her while his voice surrounded her, evoking images and sensations that made her breathing quicken and her flesh yearn for the translation of his words into reality. When he finished, he brushed her hair out of her eyes. "You seem flushed," he said softly through a predatory grin. "Was it something I said?"

She struggled to pull herself into some semblance of control, while her body screamed at her, demanding some sort of outlet for release. All that just from listening to him.

"Want to hear another?" he asked, as his predatory grin transformed into something more feral. Something dangerous.

Against her will, she gasped in panic, unsure what another one of those would do to her in her current state. She pushed against him, trying to get some space, some air, anything to help her come to terms with the surprising degree of power he had over her—to give her the time to turn that power to her own advantage. Gourry's arms tightened around her, a clear sign that he had no intention of showing any mercy.

"How 'bout tomorrow, then?" he asked. "Give us something to do on the road."

She had not thought it was possible to feel any more turned on than she already was. The thought of Gourry's voice spinning a fantasy as they walked along a gravel road . . . the added spice of danger if Zel or Amelia happened to hear . . . She struggled in his arms, this time not in an attempt to increase space, but to grind herself against his body, even as she glared at him. "You wouldn't," she hissed.

Something flared in his eyes, and she knew she had made a terrible mistake. "Tell you what," he said calmly enough while all her instincts screamed at her that it was a trap. "I won't tell you another on the road, tomorrow," he continued, "but I want something in return."

There it was: the bait. She could see it clear enough, although not the full trap. Not yet. "What do you want?" she asked cautiously.

He shrugged casually, but there was nothing casual about the look in his eyes. "Oh, I don't know," he said guilelessly. "How 'bout a future request?"

"What kind of 'future request'?"

"Oh, no," he said with a hint of laughter. "That's not part of the terms."

Damn him. The last time he had decided to play guessing games, she had spent the good part of one day driven to distraction. "I'll agree," she said slowly, trying to buy time and leverage, "if you promise not to ever tell me one on the road."

"No deal," he responded firmly.

"But, Gourry—" she protested.

"Nope," he insisted. "My terms or none."

She glared at him while she swore internally. If she refused to agree, he would attack her tomorrow. He may seem like he had the retentive powers of a sieve, but she knew this was one of those stupid things he was going to remember. Was it worth promising a future request? What could Gourry possibly want from her at this point that he did not already have? It would probably be some minor little thing, like a promise to not levitate him or something . . . so she should just go ahead and make the deal, since she obviously had the advantage . . .

She looked into his eyes, and the words of assent died in the back of her throat. "No deal," she said with finality.

He shrugged in response. "Suit yourself," he said nonchalantly. Instead of looking disappointed, he looked . . . eager. Like she had thrown down the gauntlet, and he was now enthusiastically planning his response.

Lina swore under her breath and extricated herself from his arms. This time he let her go easily enough. She glanced at _The Menagerie_ and swore again, trying to resign herself to the fact that she was going to have to let Zel read it as is. She closed the book with a loud thump and then snatched up her cloak.

"Where are you going?" Gourry asked curiously when she opened the door.

"Bandit hunting," Lina responded shortly. She had the overpowering urge to fireball something into oblivion.

"Now?" he asked incredulously. "You realize it's freezing out there," he pointed out.

"You don't have to come," she purred over her shoulder as she stepped out into the hallway.

"Like hell," she heard him growl as she closed the door and ran for the stairs.

A grin split her face as she raced out into the frigid night. Finally. It was about time she got the upper hand with him!

* * *

With a practiced twist of his wrist, Gourry flicked most of the blood off his sword before sheathing it. As long as he had been with Lina, it never ceased to amaze him how easily she always seemed to find bandit gangs to beat up. It was like she had some special bandit sense or something. Tonight had been no exception. As far as bandit gangs went, this one was pretty third rate. The only thing that made them a bit unique was the fact that they had an interesting underground cave complex as their lair. The walls were still radiating heat from Lina's many fireballs, making it quite comfortable inside.

Which made the fact that his arms were prickled in gooseflesh that much weirder.

"How deep do you suppose it goes?" Lina asked. She held a ball of light in one hand and peered down the corridor. It was hard to say which Lina enjoyed more: looting bandits or frying them to a crisp; it was definitely a toss-up.

Gourry shrugged. "Probably quite a ways. We didn't see any backlash from your fireballs."

Lina gave him a very direct look, her eyes narrowing. "That's rather astute of you, Gourry," she said in a tone that was halfway between frank disbelief and grudging respect.

"Give me some credit, will ya?" he shot back sharply. Then he flashed her a grin, hoping that would take some of the sting out of his words. He had not intended that to come out so harshly. He moved closer to the heat radiating from the walls, hoping that would solve the problem. Maybe he was just coming down with something. The gods knew he had been running short on sleep and heavy on adrenaline the past few days.

With a shrug of her own, Lina dismissed the exchange and headed down the corridor. Gourry followed along, all his senses straining to try to perceive what was bothering him about this cave. It was almost like they were being watched by an enemy; it had the same intensity he associated with an imminent attack, but the sense of animosity was distinctly missing. The feeling of one without the other was distinctly disturbing. Most of the opponents they encountered either lacked the skill to mask their presence, or were skilled enough to mask it entirely. It meant that he lacked the proper cues to size up whoever it was, and that was rather unsettling.

After walking for a while, they turned a corner and the narrow passageway expanded out into a medium-sized chamber. Lina launched her ball of light to the ceiling to illuminate the entire room, and suddenly, the sense of being watched was gone entirely.

They seemed to be in some kind of multi-purpose room. A side of beef hung from a hook fastened to the cavern wall, next to a random assortment of pots and pans. Nearby were crates that appeared to hold various foodstuffs. On the opposite side, there was a collection of weapons and armor that looked like it had been quickly pawed through—probably when the bandits armed themselves to face the two of them. The center of the room contained random piles of stuff interspersed with highly polished lacquer cabinets. The range of items in the random piles was rather impressive for a third-rate band. There were rolls of rugs, sacks of grain, bales of wool, silk, and fur, stacks of copper ingots, and a couple of smaller piles of jade and amber. There was actually quite a bit of wealth in the room, but it was not the high-value compact-type of treasure Lina typically preferred.

Gourry made his way over to the weapons, and started to rack the swords, testing the grip and balance of each one as a matter of course, while Lina floated over to one of the cabinets, absently tearing a large chunk off a loaf of brown bread on her way. Most of the swords seemed rather average: suitable for third-rate mercenaries who neither knew how nor cared to maintain their equipment. A couple of the axes were high quality—or would have been if someone had bothered to keep them rust free. Gourry shook his head in disgust. One of the swords was smaller, and looked like it might be a good size for Lina. Not that he would let her use such a decidedly inferior blade: the balance was closer to the tip of the blade instead of at the tang, which was also off-center in the hilt. He racked the sword anyways, even though it probably was more deserving of a slagheap. Lina was better off with the dagger she currently carried. Once they got to Seyruun, though, he fully intended to have something made for her.

"Find anything," she asked around a mouthful of something.

Gourry looked up and noticed that she was now munching on a thick wedge of cheese. "You mean in this pile of junk," he hooked a thumb in the direction of the weapons, "or in that hidden nook you're standing on?" he asked casually.

Her glare was so adorably murderous, he had a hard time maintaining his own bland expression. For so long, getting a rise out of her had been the only strong emotion he had been able to elicit . . . and annoying the hell out of her had kept him firmly in the safe big-brother-type category. As happy as he was to have shed that role, old habits died hard.

Suddenly, her expression shifted to blend pure annoyance with surprise and careful consideration. He had to admit, he loved reading Lina's expressions: there was always so much there to see and interpret. "Can you teach me that?" she asked as she dropped to her knees and ran her fingers over the floor. Within moments, she was digging her fingers into a crevasse that had been filled with grey dirt that generally matched the cavern floor.

"Teach you what?" he asked in confusion. As much as he enjoyed reading her expressions, they never gave him enough to follow along when she decided to shift the conversation. He had no idea what she was asking. It was not like she needed help annoying people . . .

Lina rocked back on her heels, her annoyance clearly back at full strength. "Why is it," she bit out from between clenched teeth, "that you have no problem seeing all the little details in a room," she gestured down at the hidden niche he had pointed out, "but you can't seem to follow a simple conversation?" Her frustration was almost a palpable thing.

"Oh, that," he replied, deliberately ignoring her outburst and picking up a mail hauberk to hang it on one of the armor pegs. Could he teach her something like that?

"Gourry!" she shouted his name sharply as she jumped to her feet, clearly goaded beyond all patience—not that she ever had much to begin with.

He held up a hand, "I don't know," he shot back, his own patience uncharacteristically snapping. How was he supposed to be able to think with her interrupting like that? "I'm trying to . . ." he trailed off trying to imagine not being able to notice all the little details that made up the whole. For some reason, it made him think of some of the games he had played with his brothers as a child . . . Then he smiled. Drawing his sword, he turned to face her, slipping easily into a stance. "What's my next move?" he asked her.

Her eyes narrowed. "What's that got—"

"What's my next move?" he interrupted.

She sighed. "Step left, upwards strike under the guard," she replied, sounding resigned.

He smiled at her, and subtly shifted his stance. "How about now?" he asked.

"Gourry—"

"How about now?" he repeated, cutting her off again.

Lina opened her mouth. Then closed it. Something flickered behind her eyes, and he could see her thinking, considering. "Parry to the right?" she finally offered.

"How do you know?" he asked, holding his stance.

"'Cause your weight is slightly more on your right side," she answered, "and you just showed me this move yesterday."

Gourry dropped out of his stance and easily sheathed his sword. "I'm already teaching you," he said. "It's the exact same idea, you just need to pull back your focus." There was more to it than that, but she had to start somewhere.

She chewed at her lip, studying him.

He shook his head. "Too focused," he said. "You need to see a lot more than me."

"I know," she said softly, her eyes going distant as they typically did when she turned inward.

Gourry felt her shift, back toward the more dangerous mood that had already come upon her once this evening. Once again, he forced himself not to ask the questions he wanted to ask. He knew she did not yet have the right answers. "If it'll help," he said, hoping it would be enough of a distraction, "we can work on your focus more deliberately next time we spar. In the meantime, you can just rely on me to see things."

"Yeah," she sourly, "and you'll tell me about them when you know it'll annoy me the most," she groused as she dropped back to her knees to work on the stone that covered the hidden niche. "I still can't decide if you do it on purpose or if your timing is just my rotten luck," she muttered.

Gourry decided to ignore that, too. He turned back to the unruly pile of armor and picked up another hauberk, half-wondering why he was bothering. But really, he knew. A mercenary's life depended on his gear. Even mediocre gear deserved better treatment that being left scattered on a dirty floor. As he picked up a brigandine, something round fell from it, disappearing into the pile. He tossed the brigandine onto a hook and rooted through the pile until he found the object. It was fairly thin and circular, and small enough to fit easily into the palm of his hand. From the weight, it seemed to be some type of metal that had been coated with black enamel. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was actually two pieces attached on a swivel. He pushed at one of the sides, revealing that it was some type of mirror inside. What surprised him was that as he swiveled the top open, the black enamel started to glow gold where it no longer overlapped with the bottom mirror piece. When it was fully open, the top piece glowed entirely gold. As he swiveled it shut, the gold receded, until it was completely closed and completely black.

He turned to show it to Lina. She was still struggling with the stone that covered the hidden niche. "Take a look at this," he said, handing her the mirror. While her attention was focused on it, he ran his fingers along the edges of the stone until he found the latch point. A slight pressure was all that was required, and he was able to easily pull the stone up.

It was hard to tell if she was more annoyed that he had opened the niche so easily or was more excited to see what was in it. She handed him the mirror and eagerly pulled a small crushed grey velvet bag out of the hole. It quickly became obvious that grey was not its natural color, but instead came from a thick coating of dirt. Lina upended the bag, and out slid a small statuette. She picked it up and held it to the light.

"Huh," she said in surprise. "Is it just me or doesn't it look a lot like—"

"Yeah," he interrupted. "It does look like her, doesn't it? They even got the pose right."

"I guess it's not too surprising," Lina said slowly. "After all, we are in Seyruun . . ."

They both studied the statuette that seemed a perfect replica of Amelia in one of her justice poses.

"Are you gonna give it to her?" Gourry asked after a few moments.

Lina gave him a sharp-toothed grin. "I'll _show_ it to her," she said, "but as for giving . . . it's made of orihalcon," she pointed out.

"So?" he asked.

"So?" she echoed, her voice going up an octave. "Orihalcon is incredibly rare, and incredibly valuable. You should know this by now!"

He reached over and ruffled her hair. "Unlike some people I know," he commented with a smile, "I don't have this urge to know everything. Besides, you know enough for the two of us."

Unexpectedly, it completely took the wind out of her burgeoning tirade. She slipped the statue back into the dirty velvet pouch and then gave him a look filled with exasperation and affection. "You are _such_ a jellyfish, you know that?"

"C'mon," he said, standing up and holding a hand out to help her up. "Let's finish this so we can get back before dawn."

* * *

"Here," Lina said flatly, dropping a heavy leather-bound book on the table in front of him. He noticed that she kept one hand on it, a clear signal of possessiveness.

"Finally," he growled, ignoring her hand and reaching for the book.

Before he could claim it, she leaned her entire weight on the flat of her hand resting on the cover.

"I'll take good care of it," he said reproachfully, keeping his hand on the book and looking at her questioningly. He was really not in the mood for Lina and her antics this morning. He had come to enjoy the casual banter he shared with Amelia in the evenings, but last night . . . her accusation hung between them, and he was not sure how to make it go away without compromising himself. "I'll give it back as soon as I'm done with it," he added, hoping that would be enough of a sop to satisfy her.

"See that you do," she said intently, slowly pulling her hand away. "Have you seen Amelia?"

"I think she's still in the baths," he said vaguely as he flipped the cover of the book.

He was barely aware of the sharp look Lina gave him. "Gourry and I are going to spar for a bit before breakfast," she told him before leaving him alone with the book that claimed his attention.

At first glance it was exactly as Lina had described it: a simple bestiary. He flipped through the pages, noting the various types of creatures that were catalogued. It struck him as a bit odd that the author would title the work _The Menagerie_, but then have no discernable pattern . . . typically a menagerie was built around some type of organizing principle, whether it was exotic animals, or creatures who lived in water, or whatever. What sort of category could include ants, garter snakes, and whales, just to name a few of the more normal creatures described in the book. It also included golems, wer-creatures, and lesser dragons and demons, all jumbled in no discernable order. Zel wondered if the title was actually the author's or if it had been added later by some unknown copyist.

He flipped back to the beginning of the book, looking for some sort of introductory page or dedication that would provide some clue to the book's date and provenance. Unfortunately, there was nothing, not even a title page, and nothing in the back, either. The script was a perfectly legible book hand, although some of the letters were a bit wavy-looking. It looked a bit like the script favored by scribes in the southern part of Ralteague about seven hundred years ago, but not exactly. Even though the script looked old, the book itself was in really good condition, and the ink was still crisp.

The only other thing he noticed was that the book seemed to have a lot of marginalia, especially compared to other manuscripts he had looked at. Nearly every page was filled with text that obviously came from different hands.

Zel sighed to himself. He had hoped to find some sort of credentials to indicate whether or not the author was credible, but so far, there was nothing about the physical characteristics of the book to provide any clues whatsoever. The only thing left was to read through it, cover to cover. If only Lina had given him the book last night, he would likely be finished with it by now. As it was, he would probably only be able to read a few pages before they left.

He had just finished reading the first entry when Amelia joined him, looking very groggy. He knew that she had been feigning sleep most of the night. She ordered a double-black coffee and the breakfast special in a listless voice and then stared off into space. It was quite the contrast from her typical early morning cheerfulness. He found himself watching her instead of taking the opportunity to read. If she noticed his attention, she gave no sign. When her order arrived, she gulped at her coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste, and then proceeded to mechanically dump in several spoonfuls of sweetener.

"Are you okay, Amelia?" he asked, hoping he could get her to talk to him. It was so unlike her to hold a grudge.

She stared at the heaping mound of sweetener in her spoon for several seconds before dumping it into her cup and stirring. "Just tired," she finally offered. She took another swig of her coffee and grimaced again. "How you can manage to drink this stuff is beyond me," she grumbled.

"You don't have to drink it, you know," he pointed out.

Her head snapped up, and she looked at him for the first time since sitting down at the table. "Don't you dare patronize me," she declared angrily.

"Believe me," he said as evenly as he could, "that was not my intent." He felt like he had entered some sort of alternate reality. Amelia seemed to be channeling Lina in all her early-morning surliness. "I've just never seen you drink coffee," he continued mildly.

Amelia wrinkled her nose and then gave him a shadow of her normal sunny smile. "I thought the caffeine would help clear my head." She fell silent, picked up her fork and started poking absently at the eggs and sausages on her plate. "Did you know that Miss Lina and Mr. Gourry went bandit hunting last night?" she asked.

He shook his head, wondering at the change of topic.

"I'm not sure how she's doing it," Amelia continued as she pushed her food around. "It's not like Miss Lina to take early morning baths on a regular basis." She looked up again to meet his eyes. "I think she's still having nightmares."

"She's not the only one, is she?" he asked softly. He knew Amelia was having nightmares—although he suspected there were other dreams mixed in there as well—since he was sharing a room with her. Several times, she had awoken with a gasp, but she always rolled back over and seemed to fall asleep again almost immediately.

"I keep seeing them . . ." She swallowed convulsively and then pushed her plate decisively toward the center of the table. "Things like that aren't supposed to be able to happen in Seyruun," she declared angrily. "The blood of the innocent cries out for justice!"

Zelgadis stared at her plate and considered pointing out that the attack had not happened in Seyruun, but held his silence. Technically speaking, the bridge at least had been a part of Seyruun's territory. He wondered which was more significant: the violence against the family, or the destruction of the bridge. The former certainly had a much stronger emotional impact, but he could not shake the feeling that the remains of the family had been left to distract from what had been done to the bridge. He knew that Lina had certainly been interested in the bridge, but due to Gourry's vigilance, he had not yet had the opportunity to broach the subject with her.

Amelia stood up. "Do you know where Miss Lina and Mr. Gourry are?" she asked.

"Lina said something about sparring," he said absently.

"Well, I hope they hurry up," she declared. "We're not going to make very good progress today if we don't get moving soon."

As she headed toward the back of the inn, Zelgadis found himself wondering why he kept staring at Amelia's plate. She had poked and pushed at her food so much that the eggs and sausages had kind of blended together, leaving an unappealing hodgepodge of yellow and brown.

A slow smile spread over his face as the realization hit him. He was actually hungry! The need for food occurred so infrequently, it always took him a while to recognize the sensation. With a gesture, he signaled the waitress and ordered a meal that would have made Lina and Gourry proud.

His order arrived just as Lina and Gourry entered the common room, their faces rosy from exertion in the chill air. Lina's eyebrow rose at the sight of him enthusiastically tucking into his meal, but she gave no other indication that she was surprised to see him doing more than sipping coffee as was his wont.

"Did you finish the book already?" she asked after placing her own breakfast order.

Zel paused mid-bite. "I'm not that fast," he pointed out. "Although, if you'd given it to me last night, I could've had it back to you by now."

Lina shrugged dismissively. "I'm just surprised you're not reading," she said casually.

"Even I get hungry, sometimes," he replied.

"Sometimes?" Lina asked with a snort. "More like almost never." Something flickered in her eyes. "Why is that, do you suppose?" she asked curiously.

It was his turn to shrug. "I've never really thought about it," he replied casually. Quite frankly, he was so grateful when it did occur, he had never thought to question the why of it. When he felt this way, he could almost taste the food he ate. It was a luxury not to be wasted.

"I'd expect an answer like that out of Gourry," she said scathingly. "Not you, Zel."

"Huh?" Gourry asked, apparently pulled into the conversation by his name.

"Nothing, bait-for-brains," Lina responded acidly.

With a shrug, Gourry's attention wandered off. It never ceased to amaze Zelgadis how quickly Gourry could go from oblivious to intently focused and back again. Despite his size, it was easy to dismiss him as a threat—right up to the point where Gourry pulled out his sword. Then, every instinct screamed danger. He wondered if it was an attitude Gourry deliberately cultivated, or if it was something natural. Like camouflage.

"How do you expect to find your cure," Lina asked slowly, her tone still scathing, "if you don't even understand your condition? Are you just wandering the world, hoping that reading some random passage in some random book will miraculously provide you the information you need?"

Zelgadis swallowed with difficulty, remembering Amelia's accusation the night before. He had never questioned his methods before, but when phrased like that it was—

"Let the man eat in peace, Lina," Gourry interrupted. "If you keep harassing him like that, you won't be able to get him to talk to you for the rest of the day."

Unaccountably, Lina blanched. "Gourry," she said plaintively, "you promised!"

"I did no such thing, Lina," he answered equably. "You're the one who—"

"Look, our food!" Lina interrupted as a waitress struggled out of the kitchen bearing a heavily laden tray.

Zelgadis flashed Gourry a quick look of gratitude. Gourry shrugged almost imperceptibly in response. He had to admit: Gourry's ability to handle Lina was a skill that rivaled his prowess with a sword. As he thought back over the past few days, he realized that Amelia had been right that day at the bridge when she said they could trust Gourry to handle Lina.

* * *

"Are you and Mr. Gourry fighting?" Amelia finally asked. She had not really noticed earlier, since most of her attention had been on maintaining the personal heating spell Lina had developed while slogging through the snow that had started soon after they had set out. Thankfully, the snow had been fairly light, and it had stopped by lunch time.

"No," Lina responded quickly, darting a nervous glance at Gourry, "what makes you think that?"

"Well, you've been avoiding him all day," Amelia pointed out. Lina had spent most of the afternoon flitting between her and Zelgadis.

"That's absurd," Lina replied confidently, but Amelia caught the fleeting panicked look she tossed in Gourry's direction.

"Is it?" Amelia pressed.

"You know, I've been thinking," Lina responded quickly. "How much do you think Zel understands about his current body?"

It was a patently obvious attempt to change the subject. Unfortunately, it was also a topic Amelia had been spending more and more time thinking about of late, although probably not the way Lina meant. "Well, we know that his body is a chimera combining human, stone golem, and brow demons."

Lina waved her hand impatiently. "I meant aside from the obvious stuff," she said dismissively. "He has heightened physical characteristics: enhanced speed, stamina and strength; he has heightened magical abilities; he can only be wounded by magic or demon-kind—" Lina broke off, and looked at Zelgadis speculatively. "How many of those characteristics do you think he's willing to give up?" she asked softly.

"What do you mean?" Amelia asked.

"Well," Lina responded slowly, "would you be willing to give up your ability to use magic?"

"Of course I would!" Amelia declared. "As long as it was in the cause of justice!"

Lina turned the speculative look on her then. "Maybe that was a bad example," she murmured. "But take Zel," she continued undaunted. "He prides himself as being a 'heartless mystical swordsman.' Do you think he would have any noteworthy skill without the speed and strength of his current body? Could he live with just being a mediocre human with no special skill?" She looked directly at Amelia, holding her eyes. "Do you really think he'd be willing to give up all of that, if it meant being human?"

"But he wants to be cured so badly," Amelia pointed out. "It's practically an obsession."

"I know," Lina said softly, her eyes staring off into space. "I think he wants to have it all," she finally murmured after a significant pause. "He's not the only one," she added a moment later in a hushed whisper.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia saw Gourry suddenly focus his attention on them, a sure sign that Lina's mood had shifted closer to something dangerous. Amelia nudged Lina to get her attention. "Did you know that Mr. Gourry is always watching over you?" she asked, hoping it would be enough to distract her friend.

Much to her surprise, it seemed to work. "Well, he is my protector, after all," Lina replied easily enough.

"Are you really going to let him follow you around like this for the rest of his life?" Amelia asked.

"'Let'?" she echoed.

"You know what I mean," Amelia responded, ignoring the warning. "It's not just to keep him following—"

"Gourry and I are perfectly content with the way things are between us right now," Lina replied. The warning was even more explicit.

"But he loves you!" Amelia declared.

"You think I don't know that?" Lina demanded in a low undertone.

"Why can't you just admit—"

"Not everything works out the way it does in the stories, Amelia."

"But if you accept the love in your heart, justice is sure to prevail!" Amelia declared. Just that simple statement made her feel happier than she had in days. Unfortunately, the feeling faded as quickly as the sound of her words.

"Didn't work that way for Luke and Milina," Lina countered softly.

"Who?"

"You never met them, I think," Lina replied. "Gourry and I traveled with them for a few months after the incident with Hellmaster."

"Is that when Mr. Gourry got his new sword?" Amelia asked.

"Yup!" Lina declared with a cheerfulness that was at striking odds with her earlier brooding. "So how are things going with you and Zel?"

Amelia stared at the leafless trees that lined their path, and then swallowed hard. The bare branches reaching to the heavens made her think of skeletal fingers stripped of flesh by carrion. "Okay, I guess," she finally offered, shaking her head. She had seen death before. Why was she having such a hard time dealing with the memory this time?

Lina stopped suddenly, grabbing Amelia's elbow and turning her forcefully to look her in the eye. "Is he hurting you?" she asked intently.

Amelia gaped at her, and then struggled to suppress a shudder. In the gray overcast, Lina's eyes looked almost black. Amelia shook her head slowly, willing herself to give no indication of the fear that had suddenly spiked through her. "Miss Lina—"

Lina's grip on her elbow tightened, and her eyes seemed to turn even darker. "I love you like a sister, Amelia, and I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. Not even him."

"Miss Lina—" Amelia repeated, trying to figure out how to respond. She had the strongest feeling that the wrong answer would not only make Lina turn on Zelgadis, but her as well. "It's not—"

"Mind if I talk with Lina for a moment," Gourry asked, startling them both. Neither woman had heard him approach.

"Sure—" Amelia started to say, grateful for the interruption.

"I'm gonna scout ahead," Lina announced, cutting her off mid-sentence. Without waiting for a reply, she rose from the ground and sped off before them.

"Are you okay?" Gourry asked, although most of his attention was on Lina's rapidly receding figure.

"What's wrong with her?" Amelia asked softly. "Why's she avoiding you? Are you fighting?" Suddenly, Zelgadis's concerns about traveling with Lina felt like they had significantly more substance.

Gourry smiled easily enough, although there was something in his eyes she was not used to seeing, something she could not exactly interpret. "No, we're not fighting," he replied casually. "It's just a game."

"A game?" Amelia echoed, unconvinced. There was something rather desperate about the way Lina had just fled. "Like 'Tag'? Or something else?"

"'Tag'?" he echoed, sounding distracted as he looked down the path. Then he turned to look directly at Amelia. "Yeah, something like that," he agreed.

Amelia finally recognized the look in his eyes. It was the look of a hunter who was chasing after challenging and dangerous quarry. Her fears evaporated immediately, and she felt a bit chagrinned that she had doubted him, even for a moment.

"She's got enough of a head start, don't you think?" he asked. Without waiting for a response, he starting running in the direction Lina had gone.

"Good luck, Mr. Gourry!" Amelia shouted after him, feeling much better than she had in days. He raised a hand to acknowledge her and then he picked up speed and disappeared around a bend.

"What was that all about," Zelgadis asked, looking up from the book he was reading, the one Lina had given him that morning. He had pulled it out as soon as the snow had stopped.

"Apparently they're playing some sort of game," Amelia offered.

"Not that," Zelgadis replied impatiently, "I meant when Lina grabbed you."

Amelia gave him a very direct look, considering her words. "She asked me if you were hurting me," she finally said, keeping her tone matter-of-fact.

It was almost imperceptible, but she caught his slight wince.

"I didn't tell her that I'm the one who hurt you," Amelia continued. She had accused him of keeping secrets, an accusation that had hung uncomfortably between them—that she had allowed to hang between them since the previous evening. Her advice to Lina applied just as much to her own situation. "I don't like the fact that you haven't asked me for help, but I should have found a more constructive way to communicate that to you."

Zelgadis was silent for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Then he closed his book and put it in his pack before facing her. "No," he finally said, "I'm the one who should apologize. I've been railing about Lina keeping secrets, while holding tight to my own." He sighed inaudibly. "I'm a selfish bastard, Amelia." He held up his hand to forestall her when she opened her mouth to interrupt. "I want what I want when I want it." He laughed then, a short bark of sound with no mirth. "And I pretty much always got what I wanted, too."

Amelia held her breath, not daring to interrupt at this point, and schooled her features so that they would not betray the giddy feeling burgeoning in her heart. He was finally taking that first step, beyond the inconsequential personal, to actually open himself up to her, to show her a bit of his soul. She wanted to leap to the top of the nearest tree and sing to share her jubilation. Instead, she waited for him to continue.

"Did you know that I actually managed to piss Gourry off the other day?" he asked softly.

Amelia shook her head, slightly, confused at the shift in the conversation. Had she missed something? It seemed like such a non sequitur.

Zelgadis winced. "I asked him pretty directly if he was sleeping with Lina." He paused, and then coughed slightly. "Actually, it was a bit more blunt than that."

"But, I thought you said—"

"I still want what I want, and I'll use any method to get what I want," he interrupted. "The thing is," he continued softly, as he tentatively reached for her hand, "at that moment, I wanted what you want. I wanted to get a straight answer about their relationship—not for me, but because you wanted it."

The giddy feeling transformed into exultation, and she blinked rapidly against the tears she could feel coming to her eyes. It was a baby step, to be sure. But he would not be Zelgadis if he suddenly proclaimed his feelings for her from the highest point. She offered him a watery smile and squeezed his hand.

There was just one thing that confused her. "Did you say Mr. Gourry was actually angry?" she asked incredulously.

Whatever response he was going to offer was interrupted by the faint sound of an explosion from up ahead.

* * *

Despite the chill in the air, Gourry felt a trickle of sweat run down his spine. He had easily hit his stride and was running effortlessly along the path, chasing after Lina. It was too good an opening to pass up, after she had willingly separated herself from Zel and Amelia. He had to admit, Lina was very good at running and eluding capture. The gods knew she had enough practice. He had lost count of the number of towns they had been chased out of over the years. It definitely felt good to be the one on the chase, instead of fleeing a mob of angry people bent on retribution. And he had a distinct advantage over all those mobs: he knew her patterns. If he had judged correctly, she should have turned off the path somewhere around here . . .

There! His eyes caught the unmistakable glint of a copper hair, caught on a tree-branch as she had pushed through the underbrush. He had to give her credit: it looked like she had made an effort to leave little evidence of her path. Only now that he knew what he was looking for could he see the indentation left by her boot there, the broken branch that had impeded her progress here. A grin split his face. She typically did not go to such lengths, counting on speed and stamina to evade her pursuers. But then again, speed and stamina were not going to help her much against him.

This time, he sacrificed stealth for speed. She knew he was chasing her, so there would be no surprising her. Besides, as he had told Amelia, the game this time was more in the nature of tag, rather than surprise assault. Speed was much more suitable for this type of game.

Once again, he found her in a tiny clearing, but that was the only similarity between this chase and the last time he had pursued her through a wilderness. This clearing was clearly artificial, with a smooth stone floor inhibiting the creep of the forest. And this time she was ready for him. "Stop right there," she growled as he rustled through the underbrush. Her hands were held at one side, and he could see the glowing sphere they cradled. "I've got a fireball here with your name on it, and I'm not afraid to use it," she declared.

It was a rather impressive-looking fireball, he had to admit. If she launched it, even if he managed to dodge it, it looked like it would turn the underbrush into a raging inferno. Fortunately, he had other options available to him. With a feral grin, Gourry drew his sword.

Lina blanched and then gave a panicked look to her right. Her eyes had not even flicked back toward him when she unerringly launched the fireball in his direction.

Still grinning, Gourry stepped into the fireball, slicing it cleanly apart with his sword. Instantly, the flames dissipated into nothing, but she had immediately followed up with another. He had not been expecting that, and he only just barely corrected his follow-through swing to intersect it just as it exploded in his face. Fortunately, his sword took in the majority of the energy, giving him just enough time to react to Lina's next volley. Her speed was impressive, because he could see a string of fireballs approaching him: with every flick of her wrist, another one launched at full speed. As he stepped closer to her, using his sword as a shield, she changed tactics. Instead of launching the next set directly at him, she started throwing erratically. He had to juke and dodge to hit them all before they reached the edge of the clearing.

As he turned to face her again, he realized that her tactic had been to distract him just long enough to get in another spell. She hovered off the ground, just out of his reach, surrounded by a shield of wind. Not only was she out of reach, the shield would prevent her from effectively hearing anything he might say, even if he shouted. He could see her smug grin as her eyes dared him to come up with an appropriate counter.

Gourry maintained his stance as he circled around her, assessing the twisting and writhing pattern of the wind. She rotated along with him, waiting for his next move, confident that she had the upper hand. But if he had guessed right, the tables were about to turn dramatically.

Before she realized what he was doing, he thrust his sword precisely into the swirling wind. There was a sudden loud whooshing sound, and then the barrier surrounding her disappeared. He could hear her quickly chant the spell for levitation, but she had been too close and too unprepared for his counter. He caught her by the ankle and was able to drag her down, pinning her to his side.

"Tag," he said smugly.

She glared at him, and then glared at his sword. "That was a dirty trick," she growled.

"You're only saying that because it worked," he replied. "Your feint was pretty good, there at the opening. And the second fireball definitely took me by surprise. Good strategy," he said approvingly.

"Not good enough," she groused.

"We'll just have to practice harder," he countered.

"Is that why you're here?" she asked with false cheeriness. "To practice sparring?"

Gourry gave her his best vacuous and clueless look, the one that drove her crazy.

To his surprise, her reaction was not to screech and flail at him. "If that's the case, put me down, Gourry, and let's get to it," she said, all business. "Practice makes perfect, right?"

"Oh, no, my lady," he said softly, almost in a croon. He knew that feral gleam was back in his eye, particularly when he saw the wary look in hers. "I'm here because I made you a promise." With a practiced flick of his wrist, he launched his sword at the ground. It sunk up to the hilt as if the stone were soft butter. He gave Lina an appraising look. "You were going all-out, weren't you?" He had expected the sword to only penetrate the ground about halfway up the blade, not all the way to the hilt.

A shrug was her only response.

He sat down tailor style next to his sword, and pulled Lina onto his lap. "Now, where was I?" he asked disingenuously.

"About to let me go?" Lina prompted, although she spoke in a husky tone that almost masked her annoyance.

Gourry took a deep breath. "How about—"

"I don't flippin' believe it!" a strange voice proclaimed from behind them. The voice was not loud, but it sounded like whoever was speaking was right on top of them. "The old bat was actually right!"

Lina launched herself to her feet. Gourry was right behind her, snatching up his sword, which released from the ground as easily as it had penetrated, leaving a deep fissure in the otherwise smooth rock.

They both scanned the forest for the source of the voice. Gourry nudged Lina when he noticed a strange distortion in the branches of the tree above them. As they both watched, the distortion resolved itself into the shape of a child of about eight or ten years. The clothing and hairstyle suggested that the child was a boy, but Gourry had the strongest feeling that the child was actually female.

Effortlessly, she dropped from the tree to the ground before them, and then sank into a low bow. "My lord Kušuh," she said reverently. "My lady Šauška."

Gourry and Lina stared at her, then at each other, and then back at her.

"I—I think you have us confused with someone else," Lina said cautiously.

The girl straightened at that point. "If you help us, we'll offer you free lodging and all the food you can eat."

"Deal!" Lina practically shouted.

"Then there is no mistake," the girl said with an impish grin. "If you'll follow me this way, my lord, my lady," she gestured toward the underbrush behind her.

Rustling from the direction of the main path caught all their attention, although Gourry noticed that the girl interspersed her body between the two of them and the sound, spreading her arms wide. There was a funny ripple in the air.

"How did you—" Lina started to ask.

"I could've sworn I just heard Miss Lina." Amelia's familiar voice was tinged with worry, even as she tried to sound encouraging.

"It's clear that someone passed this way recently," Zelgadis commented in response, "but I don't see any evidence of fire or scorch marks."

Zel and Amelia pushed into the clearing at that point. Gourry started to raise his hand to wave at them, but stopped in confusion. Based on their actions, it seemed that all Zel and Amelia saw was an empty clearing.

He glanced over at Lina, but most of her attention was focused on the girl. Slowly, she reached out her hand and touched her on the shoulder.

"Don't flippin' interrupt!" the girl burst out, and Gourry saw the funny ripple appear for a split second. "Squik," she said softly with a sigh.

"Who's there?" Zelgadis demanded, pulling his sword from its sheath with a steely hiss.

"It's okay," Lina said softly, "these are our friends."

The girl hesitated momentarily, and then lowered her arms. The air rippled yet again, and suddenly Zel and Amelia were gaping at the three of them.

"What the—" Zel burst out.

Lina ignored them, and focused all her attention on the girl. "These are our friends," she repeated. "Can they come too?"

The girl appraised Zelgadis and Amelia, her brow furrowing. "They weren't mentioned at all," she said slowly. "That means the flippin' hag wasn't completely right!" she exclaimed happily. "Your friends, you said?" she asked looking at Lina. "Of course they can come! All are welcome to the Arma Gimas!"

"Arma . . . Gimas . . .?" Lina echoed slowly.

The girl shook her head. "You'll have to talk to Tesha. She'll explain everything you need to know," she said apologetically. "Probably in more detail than you want," she added in an undertone.

"What exactly is going on here?" Zelgadis demanded.

"This girl asked for our help—" Lina began.

"Then it is our duty to help!" Amelia declared enthusiastically. Gourry noticed that she seemed happier than he had seen her look in days. "Lead onwards . . . um, what did you say your name was again?"

The girl looked slyly at Amelia. "I didn't, but you can call me Ishkallái," she said as she gestured them toward the underbrush. As Gourry watched, there was another ripple, and a path appeared. If the others noticed, they gave no indication. "You know," she said to Amelia as she gestured them down the path, "you should totally enter the look-alike contest. You're a flippin' dead ringer, you could win it easy!" she said enthusiastically. "And I'm so tired of flippin' Inara winning every year," she added in an undertone that Gourry just barely caught as he passed her.

"You sure this is okay?" he heard Zel ask Lina behind him. The girl had waited until they were all on the path before following them. "We heard the sounds of an attack—"

"It'll be fine," Lina cut in. "Besides, she offered us all the food we could eat in exchange for helping. And, do you want to be the one to convince Amelia we should walk away? I haven't seen her look this happy since before . . ." she trailed off.

"The Cylte," Zelgadis said softly.

Gourry swore softly to himself. It had been a few days since Zel had tried to get information out of Lina about what they had found at the Cylte, so he had hoped the other man had dropped the subject. Even without looking over his shoulder, he could feel Lina's mood darken. She had been doing better the past few days, but she still had a tendency to slip into the shadows, and when she did, everyone became a potential enemy in her eyes. "Where are we going, exactly?" he asked over his shoulder, directing his question at the girl.

"To my village, my lord," the girl answered simply as she pushed herself between Zel and Lina and took Lina's arm. Gourry saw Zel mouth 'my lord' in an obvious question, and he shrugged slightly in response. Most of his attention was focused on the girl. He had seen yet another one of those strange ripples appear just as she touched Lina.

"Will you walk with me, my lady?" the girl asked politely. "The path is shadowed, but perhaps I can help you see the light."

A hint of annoyance flickered across Lina's face. "I know where the light is," she muttered. "It's keeping it there that's the problem." She tensed almost imperceptibly and then her gaze flicked quickly at him. Whatever she saw seemed to reassure her. "Maybe you can't tell us about this Arma Gimas," she said with a small sigh, "but surely there must be some things you can share."

While Lina and the girl pushed past him towards Amelia, Gourry fell into step with Zelgadis. "Don't push her," he warned quietly before Zel could launch his own series of questions.

Zel grimaced, but at least he let the topic drop and they walked on in silence that was broken only by the sound of Amelia cheerfully humming and the low patter of conversation between Lina and the girl who had addressed them so strangely.


	3. Chapter 3: Dead Moon

"There it is," Ishkallái announced as they rounded a bend, "the village of Eshar."

"How many people live here?" Lina asked. Based on what she was seeing, it looked like a medium-size settlement: large enough to be mostly self-sufficient, but not so large as to end up as a point on the map.

Ishkallái shrugged. "As many as live here, my Lady. The old ones pass on. Babies are born. Some leave, some come to stay."

"Look, can you drop the 'my Lady' already?" Lina asked. The reverence that colored Ishkallái's tone whenever she said 'my Lady' or 'my Lord' was unnerving—especially when juxtaposed with the casual insolence infused in every other word that came out of the girl's mouth.

Ishkallái gave her a very direct look. "You're the one who flippin' agreed to help, right?" she demanded aggressively.

"Sure," Lina agreed, "but that doesn't mean—"

"Yes, actually," Ishkallái interrupted, "it does. So you'll just have to flippin' deal." With that declaration, she stomped off ahead of them.

"Did she say this is Eshar?" Amelia asked.

"Apparently," Lina replied sourly. If not for the offer of free food (and more than a passing curiosity about this festival and how she and Gourry could help), she would have called the entire deal off. "Why, is there something significant about it?"

"No," Amelia said slowly, "it's just that I've never heard of it before."

"Well, it doesn't look all that big," Lina pointed out. "And it is off the main road quite a bit, so it's really not that surprising, is it?"

Amelia considered. "No, I suppose not." She looked over the village. "I wonder what they need help with," she said in a distracted tone.

"I guess we'll find out as soon as we talk to this Tesha," Lina replied airily. "The sooner we find out, the sooner we can eat!"

It did not take long for them to reach the 'gate' to the village: two huge menhirs stood on either side of the path, connected by a third that rested horizontally across their tops, looking for all the world like an over-large post and lintel construction. Two guards stood in front of each menhir, dwarfed in comparison. They greeted Ishkallái with friendly familiarity and nodded casually at both Amelia and Zelgadis. However, all four of them bowed very low to both her and Gourry. Lina grit her teeth in annoyance. Gourry on the other hand, bowed to the guards in return.

"You honor us, my Lord," one of the guards commented. There was something formulaic about the words, even though they were said casually enough.

Gourry gave him that easy-going sunny smile of his. "May your blade be ever sharp," he said while making a strange gesture with his left hand.

The guard's eyes widened. "And may it ever serve as your shield," he responding, making a similar gesture.

Lina noticed that Ishkallái waited patiently until the exchange was over, then she hustled them through the gate and into the village square, which was bustling with activity. Lina was so distracted by Gourry's odd behavior and the unexpected activity that she barely noticed the worn carvings that seemed to cover all three menhirs. She made a note to herself to come back at a later point for a more thorough inspection.

"What was that all about?" she asked Gourry as they walked through the square as Ishkallái pointed out various attractions. It seemed that the town was setting up for some kind of festival.

"All what?" Gourry asked, as his head swiveled from sight to sight. "Where do you suppose the food is?" he asked.

Lina smacked his arm to get his attention. "That exchange with the guard at the gate," she bit out from between clenched teeth, "that happened all of a single moment ago!"

"Oh, that," Gourry said dismissively. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"Well, I said so now, so what was it all about?" Lina growled. She was still annoyed that he had managed to catch her in that clearing, and his current obtuseness was not helping matters.

"It's nothing significant," Gourry said absently. "Just a typical greeting between soldiers in the Elmekian army," he said with a shrug.

"How'd you know he was Elmekian?" Lina asked, curiosity cutting through some of her annoyance.

Gourry looked at her in surprise. "His stance, of course," he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lina felt her annoyance flare again. "Well, excuse me for not knowing—"

"You have _got_ to be kidding," Zel suddenly exclaimed in a tone of frank disbelief.

"Nope," Ishkallái answered eagerly. "This is where you sign up for the look-alike contest. You are going to enter, right? Right?"

"I . . . I don't know . . ." Amelia said hesitantly.

Lina looked to see what they were talking about and burst out laughing. No wonder Ishkallái had said Amelia was a dead ringer: the look-alike contest was to see who most resembled Princess Amelia of the Royal Family of Seyruun. "Of course she's gonna enter," Lina called out. "You have to!"

Ishkallái beamed.

"But Miss Lina," Amelia protested, "I don't know if that would be proper—"

"Well, let's see," Lina declared as she marched up to the stand. "What exactly are the rules?" she asked the young man who was taking registrations.

The young man looked up, and then did a double take. "My Lady?" he asked in that same reverential tone Ishkallái used.

"The rules," Lina repeated, struggling to hold on to her patience, "for the Princess Amelia look-alike contest. What are they?"

"There are no rules, my Lady," the boy responded after a brief pause. "All who wish can enter."

"There, you see?" Lina declared, turning to Amelia. "There's nothing that says you can't enter!"

"Of course she can enter!" another voice declared. "Especially if our Lady wills it."

Lina glanced around to try to locate the voice, while all around her, villagers bowed towards an extremely elderly woman who sat on a small wooden platform being supported by four women.

"You honor me," the old woman said simply. At those words, the crowd resumed their activity, seemingly taking no further notice, except for one man, who tapped one of the litter bearers on the shoulder. With a smile, she yielded her place to the man and disappeared into the crowd. "Ishkallái," she called, "are these the two?"

"Yup," Ishkallái responded impudently. "These are the two I found in the flippin' clearing. They agreed to help, but they wanted to bring their friends." She gestured grandly at Amelia and Zelgadis.

"Ah, friends of our Lord and Lady," the old woman replied with a smile. "You are both well come to Eshar and the Arma Gimas. Please, enjoy the hospitality of our humble village." Then she turned her attention to Lina and Gourry. "You must have many questions. Please, come with me."

Lina glanced quickly at Gourry. It was clear to her that only she and Gourry had been included in the old woman's invitation. He shrugged imperceptibly, and Lina felt herself relax. Whatever the woman's purpose in separating them from Amelia and Zel, there was no malice in her intent.

She and Gourry followed the woman into an archaic-looking central building. It was modestly sized, and seemed to be constructed out of masonry and mud-brick. The few windows the structure had were all on the second story, so it was rather dark inside, lit only by a scant few oil lamps. One of the litter bearers helped the old woman into the building, leading her to the center of the main floor, and helping her sit on a large cushion that seemed to be covered with coarsely woven linen or flax. While she was sitting, the other litter bearers brought similar cushions for Lina and Gourry and lit more lamps.

"You're the Tesha," Lina said as she and Gourry were seated. She was suddenly certain that it was a title, not a name. She was equally certain that she had encountered the title in something she had read years ago, although she could not remember exactly where or when.

The other woman inclined her head in acknowledgment.

"So, what exactly do you need us for?" Lina asked. "And why does everyone keep treating us like we're royalty or something? And what exactly is the 'Arma Gimas'?"

The Tesha smiled, seemingly unperturbed by Lina's barrage of questions. "The Arma Gimas is one of our festivals. We only celebrate the Arma Gimas when the new moon occurs on the winter solstice, as it does this year. Many in Eshar are excited to celebrate their first Arma Gimas."

"Let me guess," Lina said, starting to feel resigned. "It only happens once a century, or something."

The Tesha laughed. "Oh no, nothing that grand. We typically see the new moon on the solstice once every nineteen years or so."

"So where do me and Gourry come in?" Lina asked.

"Arma Gimas is the night of darkness: the longest night of the year, with no light from the moon. It is the night of Šauška, when all rules are in abeyance. It is the tradition of Eshar that on Arma Gimas, we invoke the absent moon, which we call Kušuh, to provide balance. We would like you to play the role of Šauška, and for your companion to play the role of Kušuh."

"What all is involved?" Lina asked with a sinking feeling. Why did it seem that they always got roped into the dorkiest festivals?

"There are traditional preparations we would ask you to follow. During the actual festival . . ." the Tesha trailed off with a shrug. "You just participate as it seems appropriate to you."

"That's it?" Lina asked. "Just follow some traditional preparations and then do whatever we want, and you'll give us free lodging and all the food we can eat?" she asked in disbelief. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," the Tesha replied with a serene smile, "although we would ask that you fast as part of the traditional preparations. There are other—"

"I knew there had to be something," Lina grumbled. "What if we refuse?" she asked.

The Tesha shrugged again. "If you refuse, we have no Šauška or Kušuh," she replied calmly.

"That's it?" Lina asked again. "The village isn't eternally cursed or something?"

"No," the Tesha said with a laugh. "It's just a tradition. If we fail to follow it this time, we can always do so next time. And if we don't next time, perhaps the tradition will fade. That is the nature of tradition, after all."

Lina turned to Gourry and had to resist the urge to kick him. He sat tailor style on the cushion next to her, his arms folded over his chest, and his head lolling over. The only thing she found marginally reassuring was that he only slipped into this kind of semi-doze in strange places if there was absolutely no danger.

"I hate to pressure you," the Tesha stated apologetically, "but in order to complete the traditional preparations properly and on time, we really need to start now." She paused, and then pushed herself slowly to her feet. "Would you serve?" she asked formally, extending her hands out before her, palms up.

There was something in the Tesha's movements and words that sparked some faint feeling of recognition. Lina knew she had read something at some point . . . Her mind stubbornly refused to recall the details, but the glimmer of familiarity, as well as the Tesha's frank manner, piqued her curiosity. Besides, she loved collecting traditions and stories, and living through this type of festival could be more fun than simply reading about it. She glanced over at Gourry again, and although she had half a mind to leave him in his semi-doze, she elbowed him before standing up and addressing the Tesha.

"Yes," she answered formally, placing her hands palms down over the Tesha's. "We will serve."

* * *

One moment, he was sitting on a really comfortable cushion, half listening to Lina and the old women talk. The next, he was whisked off in one direction—Lina was taken in the other—and thrust into a flurry of activity.

First, they gave him a plain gold goblet filled with a clear liquid and asked him to drink it. The liquid was very cold and very light, with just the slightest hint of sweetness. It was like nothing he had ever had before. After that, they brought him into a room thick with smoky incense that smelled of sandalwood, vanilla, and something both sweet and spicy. They led him around the room so many times, he lost count and started to feel a bit dizzy, and then they gave him something else to drink from the same plain gold goblet.

Things started to get rather muzzy at that point, even for him.

Time seemed to move haphazardly. Sometimes moments slowed so much it seemed an eternity between each heartbeat. Other times, he seemed to jump from scene to scene, with no clear sense of how he got from there to here.

At one point, he was lead into a small room underground. It was lit by a single clay lamp, and the stone walls were covered in reliefs that flickered and jumped in the unsteady lamp light. His eyes followed the moving images, looking at everything and nothing.

Watching the flicker of light and motion, Gourry imagined that he was having a conversation with himself. The back and forth question and response was so much easier to follow when it was just him. He did not have to worry about missing conversational cues when everything was in his head.

And then, suddenly he was standing hip-deep in a pool of water, being lathered and rinsed. He felt warm and relaxed, and also somewhat heavy. No, heavy was not the right sensation . . . it was aroused. Yes, that was definitely what it was. He looked down at the young woman lathering his genitals, feeling shock when he realized that it was not Lina, that he was standing naked in a pool surrounded by scantily clad women who were clearly expecting him to—

"This one is not for you," a male voice announced.

He had no idea who had spoken, but the attitude of the women shifted dramatically from alluring and seductive to all business.

Shifting from scene to scene . . . it was almost like dreaming, except that he knew he was dreaming. Or was it that he knew he was awake? But if he was not dreaming, should he really be letting people do these things to him? He kept drinking what they gave him, and breathing the incense they kept burning around him, letting them coat his skin with unguents thick with sandalwood and vanilla and something else both sugary and spicy.

He had a vague sense that he should be concerned about something, but it was not strong enough to claim his attention.

Now was now was safe . . .

Perhaps he _was_ dreaming. He was lying on his back, feeling rather chilled, even though he knew he was wrapped in thick robes of fur. Countless stars twinkled and sparkled against a black velvet sky, reminding him of the flickering of lamplight. He watched the stars without having any sense of time. Almost imperceptibly, the sky lightened, and the barest sliver of a moon rose in a sky that was more the color of fine gray silk. The light of the moon seemed wan. Even as he noticed it, the scant light seemed to be leeched away as the sky brightened. As the moon faded into the brightening sky, he felt warmth centered in his chest, felt his heart pump the warmth throughout his body, chasing the pervasive chill away, even as his senses expanded.

The rules said he was not supposed to be here. Oh, she was going to be _so_ pissed. He grinned to himself. He could hardly wait.

* * *

So far, the festival had been a lot of fun, and from what she had gathered from the villagers, this was just the warm-up. The true festival would start this evening as soon as the sun set and the Lady appeared. She assumed they meant Lina, although it had been impossible to get a straight answer from anyone. The fact that they had not seen either Lina or Gourry since the previous afternoon was the only thing marring her festival experience.

She had entered the Princess Amelia contest, using the name "Tesla." It had seemed easier to use a different part of her name than to try to explain that she really was the princess. She was pretty certain the old woman knew, but most of her attention had been on Lina and Gourry. The contest had three aspects of competition: the obstacle course that was supposed to be managed in full court attire, a chess competition, and the justice speech. In spite of some initial misgivings about the fairness of participating, she had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the competition. Much to her surprise, she had ended the first two phases in a dead tie with another competitor, a girl named Inara. She had pulled out all the stops for her justice speech, though, and that seemed to be enough to win. She was happy that it had been a true competition, and it had been interesting (and a bit disconcerting) to see how other people portrayed her.

She had made Zelgadis enter the carving competition. Fair was fair, after all. Both of them had expected Lina and Gourry to show up for the "all-you-can-eat" contest. The fact that they had not, more than anything else, had really started her worrying. Neither she nor Zelgadis could sense any malice from anyone in the village. But. Her polite inquiries about Lina and Gourry were skillfully deflected. It was not possible for them to meet with the village elder, because she was busy preparing for the festival. And there was the fact that she still had no memory of a village in Seyruun called Eshar. Lina's comment that it was too small to be on a map might have been acceptable in another kingdom, but not in hers. They were only a week out of the capital city, and she found it hard to believe that there could be a village so close that she had never heard of, particularly one with such an unusual name. At one point, she and Zelgadis had poured over the maps he always carried, looking for something they had missed, to no avail. It was a matter she intended to broach with the village elder—if she could ever arrange a meeting.

In the meantime, she made every effort to relax and enjoy the festivities. Several large bonfires were raging throughout the public square, providing welcome warmth against the winter chill. They were well-below the snow line, but the air still had a bite. There were many stands serving hot food and hot beverages in sturdy clay mugs that were thick enough to wrap one's hands around. There were games, music, and many people showing off their various skills.

By mid-afternoon, Amelia found herself glancing frequently at the sun, measuring its progress toward the horizon. She noticed that she was not the only one to do so. Many of the villagers seemed to grow increasingly impatient as the afternoon wore on, and the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. When the sun finally began to set, the villagers stopped what they were doing, and all stared toward the west as the golden glowing orb slowly sank below the horizon. The instant the last pinpoint of light disappeared, the entire village broke into a raucous cheer.

"Twilight is upon us!" a familiar female voice declared in a tone pitched to carry.

Almost as one, the crowd hushed and turned toward the east in the direction of the voice. Amelia searched for Lina, but did not see her until she noticed Zelgadis staring slack-jawed toward the top of the eastern-most building in the town square.

Lina stood perfectly balanced at the highest point of the building, brandishing a sword that seemed blacker than the darkest night. Her flaming hair had been pulled up and to the side, so that curls cascaded over her bare left shoulder. Woven among the curls were numerous ribbons as black as her sword. The thing that had caused Zelgadis's jaw to drop, though, was Lina's outfit. Her top resembled a corset, except it was much shorter, leaving her midriff bare. It looked like it was made out of black silk that was thick enough to be just barely modest, and it was laced together in the front, on the sides, and probably on the back with deep red cords. Although the cords were drawn tight, the sections of the corset did not quite meet, exposing a great deal of skin. Lina's skirt was long and narrow, and rested very low on her hips. She also wore a sword belt and scabbard made of black leather, tooled with red.

Without fanfare, she leaped from the spire and landed in a graceful crouch at the foot of the building. Her skirt slit up the right side, exposing her leg all the way up to her hip. With practiced ease, she stood. "Night has fallen," she declared in a sonorous tone that carried as clearly as a bell across the town square. "Let Arma Gimas begin!" she shouted as she sheathed her sword.

The crowd broke into a loud and raucous cheer, and there were strident ululations followed by the rhythmic thudding of drums that must have been huge, but were nowhere to be seen. A crowd of villagers pressed past her and Zelgadis, and surrounded Lina, obscuring her from sight, while another portion moved to the central square and began twirling and undulating to the drum beats. The ululations grew louder and were joined by a thin reedy flute sound that soared through and over the ululations. The resulting sound was incredibly chaotic, verging at times on discordant, but somehow fit together perfectly with the rhythms of the drums.

Zelgadis yelled something at her and tugged her towards one of the buildings surrounding the town square, trying to get out of the worst of the crush of the crowd.

"What?" she yelled back, surprised that she could barely hear herself over the noise.

"I said," he yelled close to her ear, "let's find Lina!"

She nodded, rather than trying to make herself heard.

They struggled to push through the crush of bodies that seemed to be thickest surrounding Lina, but progress was very slow, as people seemed to be jostling and fighting one another. There was no discernible flow to the crowd—people seemed to move in random directions, forcing others to make way for them. Amelia could barely think over the noise and crush, but she wondered at the contrast between the villagers now and earlier in the day. Before, they had all been polite. Now, they moved with an almost desperate frenetic energy. A couple of times, she almost lost her grip on Zelgadis's hand, until she moved directly behind him and clutched his sword belt, following him as he tried to push through the crowd. She wondered if Zelgadis could see anything. Somehow, it had gone from twilight to full night unusually fast, and the only sources of illumination were the huge bonfires that still burned throughout the town square.

"Enough!" Lina's voice carried easily over the noise. "You dare approach me without proper offerings?" she demanded in a tone that managed to be both petulant and terrifying.

Almost instantly, the crowd that had been shoving and jostling thinned remarkably. Amelia felt as though she had just escaped from an angry swollen river rushing over rocks and towards a waterfall. Taking a deep breath, she started to cast a light spell, but before she could finish it, Zelgadis took her hand and dragged her in a seemingly random direction.

"There!" Zelgadis declared after weaving through the crowd. He pointed in the general direction of the dancers, and she could make out Lina, who somehow looked larger than normal in the flickering light of the bonfires.

"Miss Lina," Amelia shouted, glad that she could hear herself at least. Unfortunately it did not seem like Lina had heard her, as she continued walking toward the dancers.

As they continued to make their way through the crowd toward Lina, a small child approached her. Although the lighting was bad, for some reason the flickering shadows did not seem to affect Lina, and Amelia could clearly see that the child was offering her a small bouquet of dried flowers. Lina stopped and knelt so that she was at eye-level with the child. They spoke for a few moments, although whatever they said did not carry. Then she stood, took the small bouquet and tied it to one of the black ribbons in her hair. With a smile, she placed her hand on the child's head. The child stared up at her adoringly, and then he was swallowed up by the crowd. As if the child's actions had been some cue, other villagers began to approach Lina—first tentatively and then with a frenetic desperateness—offering her small gifts, mainly of flowers, although others held out small objects that Amelia could not identify. This time, the crush of the crowd was enough to separate her from Zelgadis, and she found herself being swept toward the dancers, while the crowd seemed to push Zelgadis closer to Lina.

As she struggled against the crowd, gaining ground inch-by-hard-fought-inch, Zelgadis reached Lina, grabbing her by the shoulder and spinning her forcefully around. Lina's hand flew to the hilt of her sword, her face a mask of such anger that Amelia found herself taking a full step backwards. There was absolutely no hint of recognition in Lina's eyes as she glared at Zelgadis. Then, slowly, the mask of anger faded. Lina tilted her head slightly to the side, looking both slightly puzzled and mildly curious. Amelia pushed frantically through the crowd toward them while looking around desperately for any glimpse of Gourry. Something was very wrong with Lina, and Gourry was the only one who had demonstrated any ability to deal with her when she went dangerous.

Suddenly, a sultry smile bloomed on Lina's lips and she said something as she took a step towards Zelgadis, who simultaneously took a nervous step away from her. Amelia felt time stretch as if it were pulled taffy. She struggled to make her body move faster, to reach Lina and Zelgadis before something awful happened.

Lina said something else with a predatory look gleaming in her eye as she closed the distance between her and Zelgadis and snaked a hand around his neck. Zelgadis pushed against her shoulder, but instead of increasing the distance, Lina moved in even closer. Amelia could see her lips moving as her hand cupped around his neck, pulling his head closer to hers.

How could Lina be moving so quickly? Why was Zelgadis just standing there? His arms hanging slack at his sides while Lina pushed her body up against his and slipped her thigh between his legs?

Lina whispered something against Zelgadis's lips, and Amelia watched, helpless to stop it, as her best friend kissed the man she loved right in front of her eyes. Watched as the man she loved kissed her back, his hands slowly trailing up her arms and over her shoulders. She barely heard the crowd's jubilant cheer over the blood rushing past her ears, as fury and betrayal swirled within her heart and transmuted to a rage that could only be appeased by hurting those who dared to hurt her. The desire to rake her nails across Lina's face, to see her bloodied and broken at her feet . . . yes! Amelia clenched her hands into fists. Violence was the only proper response for this insult!

Abruptly, Lina released Zelgadis and turned towards Amelia, leaving him breathing hard and pressing a hand against the side of his neck. "You dare challenge _me_?" Lina demanded haughtily.

"Miss Lina, how could you?" Amelia growled, barely recognizing her own voice.

Again, the look of surprise and mild curiosity flitted across Lina's face as she tilted her head toward the side. Then she smiled. "Ah," she said simply as she stepped toward Amelia.

Amelia took the offered opening and pulled back her arm to throw a punch that would have made her father proud.

Except that before she could launch her attack, Lina had her in her arms. Anger and violent urges fled as quickly as water poured from a pitcher. Amelia felt her breath hitch in the back of her throat and a flutter of butterflies in her stomach even as a small corner of her mind gibbered in panic, helpless to stop what was about to happen.

And then Lina was kissing _her_. Her hands gently twined in Amelia's hair, even as her mouth parted, her tongue seeking entrance. Amelia felt like she was drowning, and it was the most pleasant feeling imaginable. Her heart thudded in her chest, while warmth pooled low in her belly, filling her with an inarticulate longing for something . . . anything . . .

After a moment that seemed an eternity but ended all too soon, Lina pulled slowly away, a gentle smile on her lips, while Amelia gasped and unashamedly tried to pull her back for more. "From his lips to yours," Lina said softly as she trailed a hand down Amelia's arm to claim her hand. Very gently she tugged Amelia toward Zelgadis and placed her hand in his before stepping away from them. "During Arma Gimas, all rules are in abeyance," she said simply. Then she turned and gestured an obvious summons to one of the youths from the group that had been loosely clustered around her. Taking his arm in her own, she started walking away. "Enjoy the rest of the festival," she said over her shoulder before she disappeared once again into the crowd.

* * *

Shelves and shelves of books surrounded her, stretching as far as she could see in all directions. The sheer wealth of information was enough to make her giddy. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, one she did not intend to squander.

* * *

It should have been impossible.

He had been chasing Lina, trying to get her attention, and growing increasingly frustrated by the fact that she seemed to be ignoring him. The moment he had caught her and forced her to face him, instead of recognition, her face had been a mask of anger. For some reason, as she moved to draw her sword, Zelgadis had felt a shiver of terror he had not experienced since being cursed with this monstrous body. And then she had smiled at him, a smile that transformed the shiver into a shudder. "I know who you are," she said in a low tone that made him feel like a small creature caught in a snare: vulnerable and powerless. It made him angry, but his anger was not enough to banish the trepidation, not enough to allow him to seize control of the situation.

"You know not what you seek, therefore, you cannot find it" Lina said softly as her hand cupped around his neck, pulling his head closer to hers, a silent command he was powerless to disobey, even as her words reverberated through his head and filled him with foreboding. "I can't give you what you seek," she whispered against his lips. "But just for tonight, I can give you a taste . . ."

Then she kissed him. And everything around him exploded, first into pleasure and then into pain.

Now, all he could do was watch Lina disappear into the shadows of the crowd as Amelia sagged against him. He could feel the heat radiating from her, feel the contours of her body pressed against him. She was still breathing heavily, which was making it that much harder for him to get himself under control. His fingers went to the side of his neck, feeling the rough rock of his flesh and the sting as he gingerly traced the four deep grooves left by Lina's fingernails just as she had released him. He looked at his fingers and stared at the blood streaked across them. It should not be possible.

"What—" Amelia broke off and heaved a shuddering sigh. "What just happened?" she asked plaintively, sounding both confused and frustrated.

What, indeed. It was a good question, and he wished he had a good answer. But every time he tried to focus and analyze the situation, he was distracted by the impossible.

"I think—" he started to say as he looked down at Amelia. Her fingers were trailing lightly over her lips, and whatever he was going to say was completely forgotten as he watched her touch herself. Almost without his conscious volition, his own hands rose, the one to claim her hand in his, the other to trace her lips with his own fingers. He could feel their warmth and softness. He could feel the puffs of her breath against his fingers as he gently stroked back and forth. And he could feel his own response: the tightening in his loins and the desire that was drowning conscious thought.

It should have been impossible.

"Zelgadis?" she whispered against his fingers.

He decided that he loved feeling her lips form his name, and he was doubly grateful that he had asked her to drop the polite designation. His fingers moved beyond her lips, exploring the contours of her face, reveling in the contrast between soft flesh over firm bone. What would it be like to kiss her? To feel lips moving together, to explore the contours of her mouth . . . Gently, he tilted her chin up and his eyes drifted shut as he brought his lips closer to hers . . .

Amelia's hands on his lips stopped him, firmly pushed him back. "Why did you kiss Miss Lina?" she asked slowly, deliberately. He could hear the tremor in her voice, but was not sure exactly what it meant. "Would you lay a sword between your bed and hers the way you do with me?"

He struggled to make sense of her words; impossible to do when all his attention was on the feel of her palms on his lips, her fingers just barely touching his cheeks. How was it possible that he could suddenly feel so much?

He was out of control, he knew it. And for once, he had no desire to be in control. For so long, he had wanted to give Amelia his feelings. Now, suddenly he could. Why was she stopping him? Anger bloomed. Was she rejecting him? Now?

"You kissed Lina," he accused harshly, his hands sliding up to grip her upper arms—too tightly, he could tell, he could feel it. "Is she the one you want?" he demanded, grinding his fingers into her flesh, pressing muscle and tendon into bone. "Is that why you wanted to know so badly if she was already taken by Gourry?"

"No!" Amelia cried out, her voice tinged with pain both physical and emotional. "How can you think that?"

"I won't let you reject me!" he growled, pulling her closer to him. He could smell her fear spiking, souring the scent of her arousal, spoiling it. It made him even angrier, especially as she struggled against him, trying to break his hold. This was not what he wanted, he knew that in some corner of his mind, but it was too tiny, too quiet to break through emotion and sensation. He dragged Amelia's head towards his, forced her lips to open against his, reveled in the warmth and wetness as he explored the contours of her mouth, as he tasted the faint spices from the mulled wine she had drank just before twilight. But she still fought him. Hot tears fell against him, and she suddenly bit down hard. Pain blossomed and he could taste the tang of his blood.

"Hold!" a harsh male voice commanded, and he could feel the prick of a spear point at his back. "It may be Arma Gimas, but that gives you no right to force yourself on the lady."

As if a spear could hurt him. He tensed in preparation to teach this man who dared to interrupt him a lesson in futility, but before he moved, the spear jabbed, and as unfamiliar pain blossomed, he realized in shock that this spear could actually hurt him.

"Arms behind your back," the voice commanded as another spear was placed at his throat. He could feel the prick of the spear tip, the warm tickle as a thin stream of blood flowed down his neck. Slowly, he let go of Amelia and placed his hands behind his back. Almost instantly, they were pulled together and tied none too gently. He could feel the rough thick rope digging painfully into his wrists as he was prodded to start walking.

"Wait!" Amelia cried out. "He didn't mean to hurt me!"

"We know, Princess" the guard on his left replied calmly.

"Then why are you tying him up?" she demanded angrily. "Where are you taking him?"

"It's okay," a girl's voice answered from behind him. He looked over his shoulders to see Ishkallái approaching. "They're just going to put him in the pit until the Lord appears."

"The pit?" Amelia asked, sounding vaguely horrified.

"It's just a holding area," Ishkallái explained, "where all the flippin' rowdies can beat each other up."

"Beat each other up?" Amelia echoed, sounding more overtly horrified.

"Sure!" Ishkallái agreed. "Arma Gimas means all rules are in abeyance, but it doesn't mean that we let the rowdies abuse just anyone. C'mon," she said abruptly. "Tesha'll see you now."

Ishkallái hustled Amelia off in one direction, and he was taken in another. Within moments, she had been swallowed by the crowd. It should have been easy to throw off the men restraining him, to force his way through the crowd and reclaim his princess. And yet he found himself effectively cowed and controlled.

He was weak.

It should not have been possible. This body—this curse—had never failed him.

It was impossible to think. Impossible to focus. Pain from bonds too tight, the feel of his clothes brushing over his skin, the bite of chill winter air . . . all distractions too powerful to ignore, if only due to their sheer impossibility. All he could do was surrender to the growing anger and frustration that required a target.

Without warning, his bonds were released, and he was tossed unceremoniously into a sunken area filled with brawlers. Someone smashed into him, painfully crushing him against the rough-hewn timbers lining the interior of the area. He heard raucous cheers and jeering from above him as he shoved violently against the person pinning him to the wall and waded into the thick of the mêlée. He would prove—to himself and everyone else—that he was not weak!

There was something incredibly cathartic about giving himself over to violence. Instead of trying to force his mind to grapple with the impossible, he immersed himself in attack and response. Pain was a distant memory. All that existed was the next target upon whom to vent his rage.

And then he spied her: a petite woman with flaming hair. She was scantily clad and stretched out on a divan, a golden goblet hanging negligently from one hand while she looked down upon him with a faint smile on her lips. These others around him were meaningless fodder. She was the target his rage craved, the one he yearned for. The sudden desire to completely dominate her was overpowering. He shoved indiscriminately against all in his path, until the only remaining obstacle was a rough timber wall, simple enough to scale.

As he pulled himself over the lip of the pit, he was greeted with two spear points. Despite his rage, he found himself unable to move, unable to advance toward his goal, and he snarled his frustration.

"Shall we throw him back, my Lady?" the spear-wielder to his left asked.

There was a lengthy pause. The woman on the divan languidly shifted her gaze away from the dancers she had been watching and towards him. "No," she finally said. "Let him up—if he is able."

The two spear-wielders backed off and Zelgadis slowly stood up, studying the woman as a predator examines prey. After a moment, he realized that she was doing the same to him. "You're totally out of control," she finally declared, sounding both delighted and amused. "How does it feel to feel, Zelgadis Greywords?"

To feel? He was panting and hot with exertion despite the chill bite in the air. Pain blossomed all over his body: some minor annoyances of scratches and abrasions; others more significant, like the ankle that suddenly refused to take his full weight or the stabbing pain in his left side that spiked with each inhalation. And yet the pain of the various injuries paled in comparison with the sudden tightening in his groin that demanded immediate release.

"I told you," she said, still sounding amused, "this is just a taste." She stood slowly and moved toward him with a feline grace that combined sultry sexuality with thinly restrained bloodlust. Somehow he simultaneously feared and desired her as he watched shadows cast by the bonfire and flickering torches play over her skin, like a black silken cloak that hid and revealed: a tease and a threat. He knew that she could just as easily slip a blade between his ribs as step into his arms with all the passion of a lover . . . but he honestly could not tell which he desired and which he feared.

Suddenly, she stopped in mid-stride and turned abruptly to face the eastern side of the village, which seemed brighter, as if illuminated by the clean light of the full moon. As that light bathed over him, it felt as though something was trying to wash away a fog that had filled his mind. The word "impossible" echoed through his thoughts: a word with forgotten significance . . .

"You're not supposed to be here!" the woman shrieked, her voice sounding harsh and rough, almost like an angry raven fending off competitors. "You know the rules! You don't belong here!"

Lina. The word suddenly occurred to him. It was a name. The woman's name . . . it fit, but at the same time, it was wrong.

The woman who was—and was not—Lina focused all her attention on a man who walked toward her with a stately pace. He was very tall, with broad shoulders and long blond hair that swept almost to his knees. He wore a plain white linen kilt held in place with a simple gold belt that circled his hips. A thick golden collar rested on his shoulders, and at the center of the collar stood two tangential circles of equal size that cast a clean light that illuminated without blinding. His skin had been oiled and seemed almost to glow. In his left hand, he carried a sheathed sword. Both the hilt and the gem-encrusted scabbard seemed to be bronze, and a golden cord was twisted around the scabbard, just below the hilt.

Zelgadis shivered. He felt a sudden desire to hide himself in the shadows behind the woman, and yet simultaneously, he yearned for the light.

The man stopped two sword-lengths from the woman. "My Lady," he said politely, inclining his head slightly, as if the woman had not just been shrieking at the top of her lungs.

"Kušuh." The woman—Lina—spat his name as though it were something distasteful. "Don't you _dare_ 'my Lady' me," she declared as she drew her ebon sword that crackled with dark energy. "This is _my_ night. You're not supposed to be here!"

The man—Kušuh?—cocked his head slightly, wearing a guileless look. "Is this not Arma Gimas?" he asked simply.

"You know it is!" the woman shot back.

"The night when _all_ rules are in abeyance?" he asked again.

"The rules for _them_" she said angrily, gesturing to the crowd around her, "_not_ for us!"

"Them, us, same thing," he replied with a negligent shrug as he took a step towards her. "We _are_ them," he continued. "How else could I be here?"

"Very well," she responded coldly as she raised her sword and flowed effortlessly into a stance. "If you refuse to leave, I'll make you leave," she declared as she stepped menacingly toward him.

The man's response was to free his sword from its scabbard. The long slender blade glowed with the same clean light as the medallions on his gold collar.

"You _dare_ challenge me?" the woman demanded incredulously. Zelgadis wondered if it was simple bravado. He knew she was no match for the man's skill. Then he wondered why he would think that. Clearly she had the advantage . . .

"Under normal circumstances," the man replied with a self-deprecating smile, "I wouldn't dream of challenging you, my Lady. However, these are hardly normal circumstances, and I'd say we're pretty evenly matched. Do you really think she'll let you hurt me?"

"She's not paying attention right now," the woman declared after a slight hesitation. "She's drunk on what I offer."

"I see," he responded easily. "Then why hesitate? If you defeat me, I'll leave you to your amusements," he said with a casual glance at the youths clustered around her divan. "But if I win," he said as he leaned toward her so that their blades crossed, "I hold you to your promise."

The woman bared her teeth and launched her attack without responding. Her sword moved so quickly that Zelgadis was barely able to track it and her opponent was scarce able to respond. Her blade sliced high across his sword arm leaving behind a thin gash. Although her initial attack seemed to have caught him off his guard, the man settled into the rhythm of attack and parry, seemingly unharmed by the slice.

As the man had claimed, they were evenly matched. After their initial flurry of blows, they circled around each other, assessing each other and looking for an opening. Then they would engage yet again, locking swords in a battle of light and shadow.

At first, they had a huge audience. It seemed as if most of the people in the village had gathered round to watch the battle. As the duel stretched out with neither gaining the advantage, people began to drift away. Zelgadis could hear the drums and ululations of the dancers mixed in with the screech and hiss of swords as they parried and struck. He heard cheering and shouting around the pit behind him. Eventually, the crowd thinned enough so that he could see Amelia standing on the other side of the sword fight. Like him, she watched the battle, turning occasionally to say something to an elderly woman who sat on a wooden platform.

Amelia. Comprehension and awareness returned with a vengeance, but as he watched her make no move to interfere as Gourry and Lina battled, and as he grappled with his own response to seeing her, he found himself struggling to comprehend the situation over the din of a refrain that echoed endlessly in his mind.

It should have been impossible.

* * *

The flick of blade against blade. Feint, followed by strike, followed by parry. An intricate dance of lead and follow, of flight and pursuit. She was supremely confident and he expected no less from her. But he was going to win. And when he did, he would lead her in a different type of dance, no less intricate, no less intense, but oh so satisfying.

She had led him on a merry chase. But this time, he was going to win.

* * *

"She's not holding back at all," Amelia said softly to the Tesha, a title that referred not to her status as elder as Amelia had first thought, but instead indicated that she was a Dreamer, one who apparently experienced regular prescient dreams. "Are you sure they'll be okay?" It was so hard to watch her friends attack each other and not interfere.

The Tesha cocked her head, studying move and counter move as a sword of light and a sword of darkness clashed repeatedly, sending shockwaves throughout the village, although few could sense them. "If you seek certainty," she finally said, "that is something I cannot give. But I can tell you that Kušuh has no desire to harm Šauška: at this moment, he loves her too much. She will give him a good battle, because she can do no less, but the longer he holds out, the more likely it is that he will win."

Amelia nodded and wished she could be so calm. "Did you know this was going to happen?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. She was not sure how much longer she would be able to hold out. She was very worried. If what the Tesha had told her was true . . . Best not to think of that now, but almost impossible not to when confronted with two of her close friends seemingly doing their best to carve each other into small pieces. Both were bloodied, although so far, none of their wounds were serious. In fact, both seemed to be in better condition than Zelgadis. Aside from a host of scrapes and contusions, one of his eyes had swollen shut, he was favoring his right ankle, and he kept pressing his left forearm against his ribs and wincing. It took as much self-control to avoid rushing to his side (although she was not sure if she wanted to kiss him or beat him into a pulp) as it did to avoid interfering with Lina and Gourry. She had promised the Tesha to stay on this side until the Lord was done confronting the Lady, but she had never expected it to go on this long.

"This exactly?" the Tesha responded. "No. I knew they were compatible, that their presence would guarantee a successful Arma Gimas."

Amelia felt the urge to laugh and cry at the same time. "Usually, when we're talking about Miss Lina, the only guarantee is that a lot of food will be eaten, and something will get broken." She just hoped that in this case, it would not be Gourry. She was no expert in bladed weapons, preferring to use magic or physical attacks, but she was well-versed in fighting techniques and the ferocity and intensity of Lina's sword-work was unprecedented. It rivaled that of Gourry when he had fought them under the control of Hellmaster. While Kušuh may have no desire to hurt Šauška, it was clear the reverse was not true, and all she could do was trust in Gourry's skill.

In a brief respite, they circled around each other, both clearly winded, but both just as clearly studying the other, seeking any sign of weakness that could be turned to advantage. Without warning, Lina launched a vicious attack focusing on Gourry's right side. Amelia clenched her hands so hard that she felt her nails digging into her palms, and she watched in terror as Gourry seemed to respond so slowly, just barely parrying her attack. He seemed knocked out of his rhythm, struggling to maintain his defenses. She held her breath when one of his parries left him horribly exposed, an error Lina quickly capitalized on. Amelia felt physically ill because she knew that Lina's next blow was going to slash cleanly across his belly. It was going to be bad, a disembowelment that would go beyond her healing abilities. As Lina's blade began to slice into Gourry just below his ribs, Amelia bit her fist to keep from crying out, to keep her promise to not interfere. Suddenly, her stroke lost momentum, and Lina's expression transformed from cold concentration to pure horror. Grunting against the pain and effort, Gourry executed a maneuver that knocked Lina's sword out of his flesh and out of her hand. Amelia barely had time to assess the extent of the damage before he clamped his left forearm tightly against the wound and stepped toward Lina, the tip of his sword aimed unerringly at her throat.

"I win," he rasped.

Amelia remembered to breathe, and tried not to collapse when her knees suddenly went weak with relief. They were both okay! Well, Gourry was injured, but it seemed to be a flesh wound, and for all that it was a nasty—and clearly painful—gash, it was a far cry from the disembowelment Lina's sword had been on the verge of inflicting.

Lina bared her teeth and snarled. "You win," she bit out. "Ask your boon and be done with it."

Gourry sank to a knee, shifting his sword so that it rested across his forearm as he proffered the hilt to Lina. "Accept me as your consort on this night, my Lady," he said simply. "Let my light shine for your glory."

It was the most romantic thing she had ever heard in her life! Amelia clasped her hands against her breast as her heart soared. She had been waiting for years for them to confess their feelings for each other! She held her breath while waiting for Lina to finally acknowledge her own feelings.

The silence stretched out, while Lina studied Gourry, her face a mask that betrayed nothing. Just when Amelia was certain she could not hold her breath for another moment, Lina spoke.

"How dare you?" she demanded. There was so much fury in her voice that it smeared the air with the threat of barely restrained violence. "If I had known you were going to do this, I would have just run you through!"

Amelia felt as if the world had suddenly tilted on its side, leaving her behind and askew. In all the time she had traveled together with Lina, she had experienced most of Lina's moods, which ranged from petulant tantrums to avaricious glee and included rare moments of genuine tenderness, sadness, and reflection. Recently, she had also seen Lina on the verge of panic (albeit only during her nightmare) and terrifyingly blank. Now, she could add murderous fury that verged on the psychotic to the list. Just because Gourry had confessed his feelings? It was not supposed to happen this way! Lina was supposed to be happy, not furious.

"First you break the rules, then you think to bend me to your will?" Lina demanded in outrage. "Get out of my sight! Now! Before I finish what I started!" She brandished her dark sword, falling effortlessly into a threatening stance.

"No!" Amelia shouted, jumping into the space between Lina and Gourry even as Lina advanced menacingly. "You can't do this!" she pleaded, stretching her arms out. Somehow she had to fix this, to make it right.

Lina's eyes held no recognition as her gaze slashed over Amelia, leaving her feeling vulnerable. And then something flickered in them, something that filled Amelia with foreboding. "You again," she said with malevolent softness. "Again you think to challenge me?"

It took everything in her to not back down and beg for forgiveness. Usually abject groveling would appease Lina when she took on the mien of being deeply affronted. But this . . . it was just wrong. Everything about this entire situation was just wrong!

And then, Zelgadis was at her side, wrapping his arms gently around her; shielding her. "Forgive her, my Lady," he said politely. "She doesn't understand."

His words made her heart sing nearly as much as it had at Gourry's declaration and at the same time, infuriated her beyond belief.

Again, Lina's expression shifted as she assessed Zelgadis, and Amelia could see something pass between them, something that made her remember the way they had kissed. "Not so out of control now," she said softly—regretfully?—with a slashing look in Gourry's direction. "Are you enjoying my gift?"

It was barely perceptible—she only felt it because she was in his arms, but Zelgadis definitely shuddered at her question.

Lina smiled, a slow self-satisfied smile that acknowledged some shared secret. The smile faded as she considered Amelia once again.

"My Lady," the Tesha called out, claiming Lina's attention. The old woman leaned heavily upon the arm of a younger woman and slowly approached them. "You honor us with your presence on this night."

"C'mon," Zelgadis whispered in her ear as he tugged on her arm. "Let's get out of here."

"But—" she started to protest, looking over at Gourry, who had stood up and moved aside for the Tesha. His forearm was once again pressed against his midriff, not completely hiding the blood that still oozed from the wound Lina had given him. Somehow, though, there was less blood than she thought there should be.

"They'll be fine," he growled softly, interrupting her. "Besides," he continued, his voice taking on a quality that she could feel in her bones, "I need you more right now."

His words were enough to make her heart sing once again, and she was in motion before fully realizing it. Still, part of her resisted, and she looked back towards Gourry. Zelgadis twitched her arm, jerking her slightly off balance and gaining her full attention. She gasped inaudibly at how horrible he looked. How could she have forgotten his condition? Sure, the contest between Lina and Gourry had distracted her, and she had promised the Tesha . . . but still! No wonder he had said he needed her.

Inexorably, he dragged her back to the room they had shared the previous night, ignoring the various catcalls and comments that were tossed in their direction with the same stoic resolve that he ignored the various couples who were clearly hooking up in secluded alleys and other dark nooks. Amelia found herself wishing that he was taking her back to their room for the reason others seemed to be assuming, instead of simply for privacy while she healed him up. Then, she felt guilty for feeling so selfish when it was obvious he was in a considerable amount of pain.

Once they were in the room, Amelia's first thought was to light the lamp. She wanted to be able to see clearly enough to catalogue all his various injuries. Aside from the pronounced limp and possibly broken ribs, there were also the various cuts and abrasions. Strange to think that he could get so injured during a small village festival. Stranger to think that he had battled something so significant without her sensing the presence of some greater evil. And why was it that she only just now realized how strange it was?

She shook her head, even as she struck a match against the bricks of the mantle. First, she would tend to his wounds. _Then_ she could grill him with questions. That he might or might not answer. She huffed in annoyance, accidentally blowing out the match, which added to her exasperation.

"Leave it," Zelgadis said shortly as he tugged on her arm, stopping her from reaching for another match.

"But—" She cut herself off when she felt him gently enclose her in his arms and then trail a hand up her back, across the nape of her neck and through her hair. She shivered involuntarily at his touch, at the pure sensuousness of it. Exasperation, worry, and any questions she might have had were replaced with giddy exultation as she responded enthusiastically to his tentative forays into physical intimacy.

* * *

Terror and dreams and visions. Destruction begat by birth. Joyful beginnings that came from excruciatingly painful endings.

And the possibility to rekindle that which had been lost for millennia.

Her interest was piqued by this small one who was passionately fearless despite her obvious terror. Who was willing to step up to the line, regardless of what it cost her. This small one who was both like and not like.

But there would be more time for such pursuits later. Now, now it was time to claim her prize.

* * *

He watched her sleep, luxuriating in the silky feel of her hair against his fingers, as darkness was replaced with crepuscular light that highlighted shades of gray. The room slowly, almost imperceptibly grew brighter, making it easier to see details and colors. Just as slowly, the vibrancy of tactile sensations faded: he only knew her hair twined around his finger because he could see the contrast of her dark tresses against the stony exterior that served as his skin. The texture of scratchy wool against flesh receded, along with the ache and burn of various cuts and bruises.

And as each moment passed, his ability to think clearly returned.

Unfortunately, there was no clarity to his thoughts.

What was he supposed to say to Amelia when she woke? How was he supposed to convince her that nothing had really changed when in reality, everything had changed.

And yet, nothing had changed. He was still trapped in this damned chimera body: a body specifically designed to make him strong, designed to minimize any potential distractions that would hinder his ability to serve Rezo in his mad quest. And it had served admirably. He was strong. Able to resist temptation, because frankly, there was little to be tempted by.

Not the case, last night. Everything savage, everything male had been aroused, but with no clear outlet. He had gloried in the savage feel of being powerful—and simultaneously weak: unable to walk away from a fight unscathed. Unable to resist desire for the sleeping woman he held in his arms—and unable to truly do anything to sate that desire.

Just a taste, she had said. If this was just a taste, what would reality be like?

It could kill him.

Zelgadis buried his face in Amelia's hair, breathing in her scent as he tried to hold on to the wisps of remembered sensations and tried very hard not to think about a single bitter truth.

He no longer knew what he wanted.

* * *

Something jerked Gourry from a deep sleep to fully alert. He scanned the room, trying to figure out what had scraped against his instincts. Lina was snuggled up against him and sleeping peacefully: no sign that she was having another of her more frequent nightmares, so that was not it. They were lying on a blocky raised dais covered with soft cushions and warm furs. Diaphanous hangings curtained off the area, making it seem small and cozy, but he knew the room was much larger than it seemed. Heavy bronze braziers stood on sturdy open-work stands on each side of the dais, giving off heat, the aroma of charcoal, and a faint ruddy glow that competed with the thin early morning light streaming through the hangings.

There was nothing that would warrant him waking up so abruptly and completely: no sense of imminent danger that he could detect, no sense of anything out of place.

And still, _something_ was scraping against his instincts: something that demanded his attention, but provided no clue of exactly where to direct his focus.

"'S'wrong?" Lina murmured sleepily against his chest.

He stroked his hand over her hair, careful not to pull on the ribbons and flowers scattered through her curls. "Nothing," he replied softly, knowing it was true, but also not believing it.

Instead of snuggling back down into sleep, Lina levered herself up on an elbow. "Where are we?" she asked as she groggily appraised their surroundings.

"On the altar in the adytum," he replied automatically without thinking, without understanding what he was saying.

Lina stared at him incredulously for a moment. Then her hand crept up as fingers traced over elaborate curls, ribbons, and flowers. Panic flickered briefly in her eyes, followed by thoughtful appraisal. "It wasn't a dream, then," she commented. It was not quite a statement, not quite a question.

"Which part?" he asked suggestively as he rolled her onto her back and positioned himself on top of her, supporting most of his weight on his forearms.

The maneuver caught her by surprise, and annoyance warred with desire in her eyes.

And still, something scraped at him. Like a stubborn burr inside a sock: no matter how many times you turned out your boot or took off your sock, you could never find anything. But when you put them back on, there it was, mercilessly scratching at skin. He wished whatever it was would reveal itself or just go away already.

She ran her hand lightly down his chest and along his midriff, until her fingers found the new tender scar tissue between his ribs and hip. "The part where I—" she broke off abruptly and closed her eyes to hide what she was feeling.

He remembered the blow. How could he not? The shock of pain mingled with pride that she had broken through his guard, even as he knew it was not completely her skill or will that had accomplished the feat. Challenging her in the depths of Arma Gimas had been a major risk—the gamble that she had not been fully subsumed by the aspect of Šauška was nothing compared to the irreparable emotional harm it would have inflicted had her skill been slightly greater, or his slightly less. But he understood the desire to possess a dangerous woman—how well he understood! Even had he not found himself so completely compatible with the aspect of Kušuh, he probably would have tried to help the Lord win his Lady.

"It was worth the risk," he breathed, caressing the side of her face with the back of his hand.

"How can you say that?" she shot back, batting his hand away. "And how dare you risk yourself like that? I told you, Gourry," her voice lowered to a soft growl, "you're _mine_. Get that through that sieve you call a brain!"

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

"Yours to do with as you please, you mean?" It came out sounding much harsher than he had intended.

Lina blanched.

Gourry sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." That damn scraping . . . it was nothing in their immediate surroundings. But it was close . . . close enough to be an intangible threat without actually being threatening.

"No," Lina responded immediately. "Don't. I don't want you protecting me from you anymore. I told you that. I—" she broke off and took a deep breath. "I probably deserved that, anyways."

A sudden flash of intuition, and he thought he might understand a bit better what she saw in her nightmares. Not just that he would be used as a tool against her: that she would be the tool used against him.

"Maybe I should go ahead and get that tattoo, after all," he muttered under his breath. Not the right words, he knew as soon as they were out of his mouth. He wanted her to know that he was just as possessive of her as she was of him. He wanted everyone to know that he was the one who shared a bed with the Dra-mata, the most dangerous woman alive. He wanted his claim recognized: a bond that could not be torn asunder by any who tried. Their lives were already twined together, but he still wanted more. How to convey that?

He suppressed a sigh, but she felt it, anyway. "Gourry?" he heard the uncertainty in her voice as she whispered his name. "What's wrong?"

"Something's watching us for starters," he growled, certain of the fact as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Even though he could sense no tangible presence . . . No. There it was, to the south. He focused his attention in that direction, and he felt more than saw a strange distortion that seemed very familiar . . . And then suddenly he placed it. He had seen the same sort of thing back in the clearing where Ishkallái had found them, he was certain of it. She had also been able to hide her presence from them, in spite of the fact that she had been practically right on top of them.

As soon as he identified the potential threat, the scraping feeling went away. The annoyance remained, slightly tempered by a stray thought: someone had to stand witness. He understood that, although he was not sure how he knew such a thing.

"Are you sure?" Lina asked, as she went through her own assessment of their surroundings. "I'm not sensing anything," she said slowly.

"I'm sure," he replied, his eyes fixed on the distortion.

Lina followed the direction of his gaze. "I'm not sensing anything," she repeated slowly.

Gourry just barely sensed surprised acknowledgment followed by respect. Then the distortion receded, along with the sense of presence. It was as if a bright light had been thrown on a dark corner, banishing all shadows. "Never mind," he said shortly. "It's gone now, anyways." He had to wonder though: how had he been able to sense this one when Ishkallái had hidden her presence so completely?

"Okay," Lina said softly, "tell me what else is bothering you."

He rolled off of her and onto his side. After a brief hesitation, he threw caution to the wind. She was going to be pissed regardless, and she did have a right to know. "You, mainly," he responded with a sigh.

Lina visibly recoiled. "How so?" she asked, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

Gourry looked into her eyes, wishing that Lina was more in tune with emotions and feelings. It was so much easier to just read what she was feeling, but with her, it was always the words, always the talk, always in her head.

"Do you know how long I pursued you?" he asked, struggling to find the right way to convey his frustrations and desires.

"Yes," she answered shortly. "Way longer than I even guessed you were interested in being more than my sword-wielding sidekick." He could hear the annoyance in her tone.

"Do you know why I took so long?" he asked, barely keeping the rasp out of his voice. Her obvious annoyance made it that much harder for him to find the words.

"You told me," she said slowly with precise and careful enunciation, "that it was to 'protect' me." The last two words dripped with sarcasm. It stung, more than she realized.

"I lied," he said shortly, goaded beyond caution. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were the wrong ones.

Lina's eyes narrowed. "Explain." No other sign of the impending explosion, but he knew she was way past annoyed and one step away from fireballing his ass.

"I was a coward," he confessed. "I put up with being your sword-wielding sidekick 'cause it was better than nothing—better than being rejected—" he clamped his lips together in a thin line.

Her anger drained away, quickly replaced with understanding. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I panicked. Amelia was going 'Love and Justice' crazy. I had to stop it. That was the only thing I could think of to stop her cold."

Unaccountably, her quiet apology fueled his anger. "They're our _friends_, Lina. If we told them, they could help us. They've half figured it out already anyways. And anyone in this building knows that Šauška accepted Kušuh. The whole damn town probably knows!"

"The town doesn't matter. This was ritual; we can hide behind that. The Tesha knows, but she'll hold her counsel, I'm sure," she countered with heat. "I'm trying to keep us—"(_you_)"—safe. You think this is the way I want things?"

"We could've hid behind the ritual with Amelia and Zel, too," he grated out, striving for reasonable and failing miserably.

"No," she said shortly. "They're—" she broke off, sucking in air and clamping her lips together, but it was too late. He heard what she wanted to leave unsaid.

They're the enemy.

She turned her head to the side, closing her eyes.

"No," he growled as he nudged her chin so that her face was turned toward his. Her eyes flew open and he knew she had misunderstood him. "You don't have to explain things to me. You don't have to tell me everything. But don't—" his breath hitched. "Don't shut me out. Don't—" he broke off, unable to voice the words.

Don't reject me.

* * *

Lina slipped quietly into the small dark room, and wished her thoughts were as calm as her movements. The Tesha sat in a simple meditative pose on a linen cushion in the middle of the room. Heavy bronze charcoal braziers situated at the cardinal points provided ample heat, for which Lina was grateful. The long silk tunic and pants she had been given earlier in the day seemed rather thin, although she absolutely loved the soft texture of the fabric against her skin: so different from the rough, but serviceable, blend of wool and linen she typically wore. She sat down tailor-style in front of the Tesha and waited for the older woman to complete her meditations.

"My Lady," the Tesha said moments after she had seated herself, inclining her head respectfully. "You honor me."

"I'm not—" Lina broke off her protestation with a sigh, even as the Tesha raised one eyebrow.

"You accepted the role of Šauška. In the old days, this was a role that could only be fulfilled by women of the royal family," the Tesha said quietly. "That in and of itself would be enough to make you worthy of continued respect."

Lina knew the other woman was offering her a surface truth that was both an opening to pursue the deeper truth and an avenue to drop the subject entirely. The deeper truth was that something had happened that she did not fully understand. There was a strange schism in her memories: she remembered going through the ritual preparations up until the point where she had been sat in front of a bronze mirror. She could see a woman working on her hair, but the mirror was a very poor reflector, and her image was so distorted, even though she knew she was seeing herself, she did not recognize herself. And then, suddenly, she was wandering through what seemed like an infinite library, reading books that were in languages she had never encountered, but were somehow familiar and intelligible. Each of the books seemed to describe a reality that was both like and unlike everything she had ever known or assumed to be true. She remembered looking up from her book on a couple of occasions. Once she had seen Zelgadis. Another time it had been Amelia. And then she had looked up to see a scene that was far worse than her nightmares: herself somehow attacking Gourry, somehow breaking through his guard, and knowing it was going to be a fatal blow . . . No. She did not fully understand what had happened, but she knew that it was mainly because she did not _want_ to fully understand.

"Wouldn't Amelia have been a better choice, then?" Lina asked, choosing to blaze her own path, rather than take either of the avenues offered by the Tesha.

"What makes you think I was referring to the royal family of Seyruun?" the Tesha countered, clearly amused.

"What," Lina shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "are you trying to say I'm the offspring of some ancient royal family?"

The Tesha spread her hands and shrugged delicately. "That I can't say. I'm not a keeper of bloodlines. I'm a keeper of traditions. And I told you that traditions can change, adapt, or die. You were compatible with the aspect of Šauška. That also makes you worthy of continued respect."

Lina shook her head, not in denial, but by way of apology. She was . . . unstable. Oh so close to breaking. And she had tried to kill the one person who she so desperately wanted to keep safe, the one person who could keep her centered.

"I knew you would seek me out this morning," the Tesha said after a brief silence, her brow furrowing slightly. "Would you hear what I have to say?" she asked.

It was the same slightly formal, slightly archaic phrasing that she had used when asking them to help with Arma Gimas. Lina felt the all-too familiar panic she associated with her nightmares and wished Gourry were by her side, even if all he did was sit in a semi-doze not paying attention. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself, simultaneously chiding herself for overreacting to a simple question. With another deep breath, she nodded.

For a moment the Tesha stared at a spot behind Lina, her gaze unfocused. "You, who have chosen to walk the path of destruction, know that you do not walk it alone. The path stretches unerringly before you. Stray from it at your peril."


	4. Chapter 4: New Moon

"Damn it, Gourry, I said no!"

Amelia shot straight up in bed. Usually when Lina used that particular tone, it meant that someone was about to be in serious pain. As she pushed her feet over the edge of the bed, she realized that instead of coming from the room next door, the sounds were coming from outside. She shuffled over to the window and stared in shock. Gourry was walking into the center of the open square in front of their inn and he had Lina slung over one shoulder while she struggled vainly against him, swearing and screeching enough to wake the entire town. Even as Amelia watched, she saw other curtains fluttering, testimony of how much attention her companions were attracting.

Gourry suddenly dumped Lina unceremoniously on the ground, tossing a sparring stick into her lap even as he settled into his stance. Lina stared at him, the fury clear in her eyes, and then she suddenly darted towards the building behind her. She made it about half way before Gourry grabbed her, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her back to the center. He did not say anything, but there was a set to his jaw and a hardness in his eyes that Amelia had never seen before.

"Morning," Zelgadis said from behind her.

Amelia let the curtain drop and turned to face him. "Morning," she replied, surprised to find him there. The past few days since they had left Eshar, he had already gone down to the common room when she woke in the morning. He was sitting at the small desk in the corner of the room, and the book he had borrowed from Lina was lying open before him. "I thought you'd already finished that book," she commented as she rifled through her pack for a fresh change of clothes.

A sudden series of thwacks indicated that Gourry had finally succeeded in getting Lina to spar with him. Amelia forced herself to relax the shoulders she had involuntarily hunched against the sound of wood against wood. Just two more days: one day of hard travel and then another half day to reach the capital. Then she would have other things to distract her from whatever was going on between Lina and Gourry. Zelgadis was right: it was really none of their business, especially since both Lina and Gourry seemed to be going out of their way to keep their own counsel. Lina seemed mostly the same, but Gourry had changed over the past few days. Before, his evasiveness had seemed more like his typical easy-going air-headedness. Now, there was sometimes a hard edge to him that verged on being rude. Amelia had worried that Lina's vociferous public rejection of him would affect their relationship, but Zelgadis had disagreed: the Tesha had told her that Lina and Gourry had been playing roles for the village festival, and that probably explained their odd behavior. Aside from the fact that they seemed to have stopped sparring—until now, that is—they seemed to treat each other the same as always. It was maddening.

She shook her head forcefully, reminding herself yet again that it was none of her business, and turned her attention back to Zelgadis. He was looking at her with a thoughtful expression. "What?" she asked as she gathered her things into a small bundle.

"Do you want your mail, or do you want to keep worrying over Lina and Gourry?" he asked blandly.

It took Amelia a few moments to process his words. "Mail?" she finally echoed.

Zelgadis shifted his notes on the tiny desk and picked up two envelopes. "These came this morning," he explained as he held them out to her.

Amelia took the letters. One bore the official seal of the Prince of Seyruun. The other smelled faintly of oranges, but had no other identifying marks. She dropped them back on the desk. "Neither," she announced decisively. "I want my breakfast first. Then I can deal with my mail."

"Ah," Zelgadis said simply. "Then I suppose you're not interested in what I discovered this morning."

"Well, that wasn't one of the options!" Amelia declared. She had caught the slight quirk of his lips, and she felt her mood lighten at his teasing.

"Oh, but it was," he contradicted.

"No," Amelia disagreed, "you only asked me if I wanted my mail or . . ." she trailed off. "You mean you've discovered something about what's going on with Miss Lina and Mr. Gourry?" she asked enthusiastically.

"So you are interested?" Zelgadis asked in that bland tone.

"Of course I'm interested!" she declared. "What did you find out?"

Zelgadis held up his hand. "I thought you wanted breakfast first," he pointed out.

Amelia's stomach gurgled rather insistently at that point, and Zelgadis smiled affectionately. "Tell you what," he said. "You go get changed, and I'll order us room service. Then you can have your breakfast, and I can tell you what I've discovered."

"Deal!" she agreed, delighted. It almost felt like a date.

He stood up and offered her his arm, which she took with a happy smile, and they walked towards the door. "Anything in particular you'd like?" he asked as he opened the door and motioned her to precede him.

"I think—" she started to say, but broke off when she saw Lina walking down the hall, staring very fixedly at where she was placing her feet. She felt Zelgadis tense behind her and start to maneuver to put himself between her and Lina.

Lina looked up. A half-dozen emotions flickered across her face when she saw them, each replaced by the next too quickly for Amelia to really recognize any of them. Then, much to Amelia's surprise, her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Amelia," she said, trying to smile. "Good mor . . ." Even as she tried to complete the greeting, her voice broke and the tears spilled over.

Without really thinking about it, Amelia opened her arms. Lina hurled herself into them, burying her face in Amelia's shoulder, muffling the sobs that shook through her tiny frame. Amelia exchanged a look with Zelgadis and noticed that he had loosened his sword in its sheath. She shook her head slightly, trying to reassure him while she held Lina and stroked her hands over her hair while murmuring soothing sounds, the way her father had tried to comfort her whenever she had been sad or hurt as a child.

Zelgadis studied them, particularly Lina, and she knew he was looking for any indication that Lina might turn violent. Even though she knew that his concerns were justified, it made her angry—and sad, too. After a few moments, when Lina's sobs showed no signs of abating, she could tell that his concern was starting to mirror her own. Lina was out of control, and the only one who had demonstrated any ability to help her was nowhere in sight. When he was sure he had her attention, he mouthed the words, "I'm going to find Gourry" at her. She nodded her head slightly, and tried to lead Lina into the room she was sharing with Zelgadis, especially since they were starting to attract attention in the hallway. Maybe she could get Lina to lie down. And, although she hated herself for even thinking it, if Lina did turn violent, there was considerably more room to maneuver in the room than there was in the narrow and cramped hallway.

* * *

Zelgadis found Gourry in the square, going through a sword exercise. "Lina's crying," he announced without preamble as soon as he was close enough to say it without having to shout.

"I know," Gourry replied calmly without interrupting his routine.

Zelgadis wondered if Gourry had actually heard him. He had expected—hoped—Gourry to drop everything and run off to find Lina, not to respond as if Zelgadis had just commented on the weather. "Amelia's with her," he pressed, hoping that would get Gourry's attention.

"Then why are you here?" Gourry asked, as he pushed himself through a particularly intricate pattern.

"Looking for you," Zelgadis shot back. He could tell that Gourry's question was more than just vacuous observation. Watching the other man handle Lina and dodge both him and Amelia over the past several days had made him reevaluate his assessment of Gourry's mental abilities decidedly upward. Clearly Gourry was no scholar, and his tendency to pay scant attention to conversations made it easy to view him as a bumbling idiot swordsman. He had found himself wondering several times over the past few days if Gourry was deliberately cultivating that stereotypical persona. He certainly seemed to drop it quickly enough when it suited his purposes.

"Well, you've found me," Gourry replied. With a final pattern, he finished his routine, took a deep cleansing breath, and sheathed his sword. "Spar with me, Zelgadis," he said as he picked up the pair of sparring sticks and tossed one at Zelgadis.

Zelgadis effortlessly snagged the stick out of the air while he studied Gourry carefully. "Why?" he finally asked.

Gourry studied him just as carefully. Then he grinned. "Spar with me, Zelgadis," he repeated, "and I'll answer your questions."

Zelgadis found himself taking a mental step backwards. It was an unusual request, coupled with an intriguing offer that was very much at odds with Gourry's evasiveness ever since Lina's first obvious nightmare. As far as sword-play was concerned, Gourry seemed to prefer his own warm-up and practice routines, and Zelgadis tended to depend on his innate speed and strength, rather than on technique and finesse. The opportunity to test himself against a skilled opponent had a great deal of attraction. On top of that, he was also very curious to see how Gourry would answer some of his questions, particularly after realizing how skillfully he could dodge questions. He settled into his stance and approached Gourry.

"Just so you know," Gourry said before he closed into range, "I won't answer all your questions."

Again, Zelgadis found himself reassessing Gourry. "How many, then?" he asked.

"Hmm," Gourry replied with his best distracted air-head look. "How about five?"

"Twenty," Zelgadis countered, wondering how far he could push. Gourry's response would tell him a great deal about how much he was actually paying attention, and how badly he wanted this sparring match.

"Five," Gourry responded.

Zelgadis gave him a pained look. "That's not the way that bargaining is supposed to work," he pointed out.

Gourry shrugged. "I'm not going to bargain if you're going to ask for something so outrageous," he replied implacably.

Once more, Zelgadis found himself slammed uncomfortably against his assumptions about Gourry, and forced to adjust. He knew that he had heard Gourry's final offer. He was pretty sure that Gourry really wanted the sparring match, although he had no idea why. And, damn it all, his own curiosity was driving him. "Five," he said in agreement as he took the final step into Gourry's reach.

Before he had time to take a breath, Gourry was on him, testing his reach, his grip, his defenses. Even with his speed and strength, he found himself thrown out of his rhythm and working, just to parry. Forget about going on the offensive! Zelgadis knew Gourry was more than just good with the sword: he had seen him pull off some truly amazing fights against beings who should not be vulnerable to physical attacks. He had never really understood, however, that Gourry did not just physically attack. There was something else behind his blows: a force of will that somehow made it seem as though he held a deadly weapon, not just a simple sparring stick. He had known that Gourry was more skilled than him, but he had thought his chimera body gave him enough of an advantage to shift the balance in his direction.

He was wrong.

Was it a few moments or did half the day pass before Gourry disengaged and dipped his sparring stick in a salute? It felt like both. His only consolation was that Gourry seemed to be sucking air just as much as him, and he was sweating profusely, even despite the chill wintry air.

"Do you do that to Lina?" Zelgadis asked when he felt like he could get out a simple sentence without pausing for breath.

Gourry mopped his brow on his shirt sleeve and gave him a curious look.

"Never mind," he growled. He was not about to waste one of his questions on something he already knew the answer to.

Gourry gave him an easy-going grin as he held out his hand to take Zel's sparring stick. "Ask your questions, Zel. I can't guarantee I'll have answers, or that you'll like them, but I'll tell you what I can."

"Why'd you want to spar with me?"

"Lina suggested it," Gourry replied with a shrug.

"Do you ever do things for your own reasons, or do you just do everything Lina wants?" Zel shot back, annoyed.

"I'm not just Lina's lackey or puppet," Gourry snapped, "despite what others may think. I had my own reasons to challenge you," he said more calmly as he gestured at his midriff, indicating the area where he had been injured in the match in Eshar.

"Does Lina know that you're in love with her?" Zelgadis pressed on, trying to catch the other man off balance, and hoping he would count the previous question as one instead of two.

"Yes," Gourry said after a brief hesitation Zelgadis could not quite interpret. "And that's four questions."

Damn. Gourry had said it calmly enough, but there was enough of a hint of implacable stone wall in his tone that Zelgadis knew it was not worth arguing. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so much he needed to know. For a brief moment, he thought about asking what Lina was trying to hide behind a silence spell, something he had just noticed that morning. One moment, he had heard nothing beyond the typical early morning sounds of a small village, and the next moment, Lina was in the middle of haranguing Gourry. The only explanation was a silence spell on their room. But with only one question left, he was not going to take a chance on getting more useless information. With his luck, Gourry would just tell him that Lina did not want to bother people if she started screaming from another one of her nightmares.

No, he wanted to ask something that would give him a real answer. He considered all the angles, and finally asked the question that he hoped would provide the most information. "Why was Lina so upset about the family we found on the other side of the Cylte?"

Gourry sighed and stared at nothing for several moments. "She was afraid that she had killed them," he finally offered slowly.

Zelgadis felt his heart clench. "That's impossible," he declared, forcing himself to not turn the statement into a question, forcing himself to maintain his typical unruffled impassive expression.

"I know," Gourry replied. "And I'm just guessing at a lot of this. She won't tell me about her nightmares, and that's probably for the best right now. But I know that she recognized what we saw at the Cylte. I'm sure of it."

* * *

Lina shoved her chair back from the table and tried not to glare at Gourry. Instead she turned on Zel. "I want my book back," she demanded, knowing she sounded petulant and not really caring.

She had felt so much better after her outburst that morning. She had been furious with Gourry for forcing her to spar, and she had been relieved beyond measure to find that he was just as skilled as she remembered. She still did not know how she had managed to push him out of his rhythm and break through his guard during the match in Eshar. She was not even sure how she had ended up fighting him or why. Lina pressed the heel of her hand against the bridge of her nose against the sudden pain that spiked there. She had felt better after her cry: she had felt more normal than she had in a long time. But ever since they had stopped for lunch, she had been increasingly distracted. She thought she kept hearing voices arguing, but none of her companions gave any indication that they heard anything of the sort.

Maybe she was just going insane.

Could nightmares drive a person insane?

"I'm not done with it yet," Zelgadis responded calmly as he took a sip of coffee.

"I don't care if you're done or not," she spat out, her voice sounding a bit hysterical, even to her. "I want it back."

"Why?" he asked, setting his cup down carefully on its saucer.

"Because—" Lina stopped mid-sentence, unable to articulate anything coherent. The arguing voices swelled to a snarling crescendo and pain spiked once again behind her eyes, followed immediately by a deep cramping low in her gut. She pressed both hands hard against her lower abdomen, which felt as hard as a rock. They wanted the child as a sacrifice. They wanted her to devour the child—her child. She looked down and saw blood-stained tiny curled fingers reaching for her, begging for help, screaming a silent accusation.

Would being insane hurt this much?

* * *

Gourry pressed his lips against Lina's hair, just holding her while she clung to him in the privacy of the room they shared. She seemed stable—for the moment.

Damn. Forcing her to spar this morning had helped. He was certain of it. She had been furious with him, and somehow, being that angry had made it possible for her to let go a bit. When Zelgadis had told him that she was crying, he had been relieved, hoping that maybe the worst was over.

So much for that.

It was getting harder to predict what would set off a violent reaction. Something was festering inside of her. Under normal circumstances, he would have encouraged her to talk about it. Not because he thought he would understand, but just because talking seemed to help her. This time, though, he had the feeling that talking would make it worse, that whatever was festering would destroy her on the way out.

And possibly destroy the rest of them, too.

"I tried to cast the Dragon Slave," she murmured against his chest, her arms tightening slightly around him as she spoke.

"Yeah," he murmured against her hair. One moment, she had been arguing with Zel, the next, she doubled over, pressing her fists into her gut. And then she started to chant the words for the Dragon Slave. Only this time, he knew she was targeting herself. Shouting her name did nothing, so he did the second thing he thought of: he grabbed her hands to prevent her from finishing the gestures and slapped her. Hard. Her cheek still bore the bruise.

She pushed back from him so that she could see his face. "'Creation itself requires a balance,'" she murmured.

"Hmm?" The words sounded vaguely familiar for some reason.

She shook her head slightly and leaned against him. "Nothing. Just something I read. I think the answer is there, if I can just understand what it means."

He suppressed a sigh and changed the subject. "I sparred with Zel this morning," he said quietly.

"How'd it go?" she asked, her words slightly muffled since she was speaking into his chest.

"I had to bribe him, first."

Lina pushed back again and looked at him incredulously. "You're serious," she said. It was part question, part declaration. Then her eyes narrowed as she considered the possibilities and came to a conclusion. "What did you tell him?" she demanded brusquely.

"Not much," Gourry replied easily. "I gave him five questions in exchange for sparring with me." Then he snorted. "For a smart guy, he didn't handle the situation very well. He wasted three questions on things that he already should've known."

"Like what?" Now her tone was part hard-edged, part curious.

"He wanted to know if you knew that I'm in love with you."

She stared at a spot over his shoulder, considering. Then she leaned against him again. "Amelia's question," she said after a moment.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I don't think he really cares one way or the other about our relationship, except that Amelia cares."

She sighed against him, a soft sound that managed to convey the bittersweet flavor of her emotions. Or maybe it was just because she was so close in his arms. After another moment of silence, she asked, "so, what did you think?"

Gourry found himself suppressing his own sigh, because there was only one response he could offer, and it was going to annoy her. "About what?"

He felt her jaw clench and the hands that had been resting lightly against him tightened into fists. Before she could launch into a tirade, he said, "Do you want to know what I thought of Zel asking me that question, or what I thought of it being Amelia's question, or what I thought about him not caring about our relationship, or about having to bribe him?" He tried to keep his tone light, but he could feel the edge to it. "Or was it something else?" he asked.

Lina pushed herself away yet again to look at him. The annoyance was still there, but it was tempered by something that was part confusion, part realization. She took a deep breath, but before she actually said anything, he saw her pause mid-thought and shift course, her annoyance fading almost completely into chagrin. "Sometimes, you don't pay attention," she said softly. "To the conversation, I mean." She paused again, considering. "Other times, you seem to know what I'm going to say even before I say it, like you know what I'm thinking." She snorted. "And other times, you have no idea what I've said, even if you _are_ paying attention." Then she growled, "And _sometimes_, you do it deliberately, just to piss me off." She grabbed his shoulders and tried to shake him, a move that would have come off better if he had not been leaning against the wall. Instead, she ended up shaking herself back and forth. "Do you have any idea how _frustrating_ that is?" she demanded, punctuating each word with a shake.

"Do you have any idea how adorable you are when you're frustrated?" he countered, flicking the tip of her nose with his finger.

It stopped her cold. She just stared at him, clearly flabbergasted and at a loss for words. She opened her mouth and closed it a few times. Then she glared at him. "Are you some kind of closet masochist or something?"

"No," he answered honestly. "I just . . ." he trailed off with a shrug, not sure how to explain it.

"You just . . . ?" she prompted.

Gourry shrugged again. "You're in your head too much. I can't read you when you're in your head. But I can tell what you're feeling . . ." he trailed off again, knowing he was not explaining it well at all.

Lina cocked her head to the side, her eyes thoughtful. "Well, that explains three out of four," she finally said. Her gaze unfocused as she turned inward, and once again, he had no idea what she was thinking. After a few moments, she focused on him again. It was clear that she had made some sort of decision, but again, he had no idea what it was. "What did you think about Zel's sparring skills," she finally asked. Something strange glittered in her eyes as she studied him carefully.

At least she had given him enough conversational cues to follow. But now it was his turn to consider carefully: there was something dangerous—predatory—about her look. "You were mostly right," he said slowly. "He depends a lot on innate strength and speed, not so much on technique or finesse." He paused, as he allowed a myriad of impressions, intuitions, and his own reactions to Zel's moves flow through his memory, and tried to translate them into words that would make sense to Lina. "His focus is more on himself than on his opponent," he finally offered. It was not so much that Zelgadis concentrated on defense or anything like that. It was that he was more aware of how his own body was moving, rather than on the interaction between himself and his opponent.

"If you take away his enhanced strength and speed, how do you rate him?" Lina asked after a lengthy pause.

Gourry sighed. "He fights like someone who's read about moves and techniques in a book, and then waved a sword around trying to translate words into movements."

"You mean, he fights like someone who's in his head too much," she responded quietly, thoughtfully.

"Yes," Gourry answered, "exactly like that."

* * *

Zelgadis flipped to the page in the middle of the book he had borrowed from Lina, the one that she had not wanted to loan to him—and that she had thrown a fit over: a fit that had quickly become nearly deadly, if not for Gourry's quick reactions. He stared at the page he had studied so carefully at least half a dozen times: a description of the goose, its preferred habitat, migration patterns, and its mating cycle. Buried in the middle of the passage—literally interpolated into the middle of a sentence about the preferred diet of geese—was the passage Lina had originally shared with them: "All creatures are composed of black and gold, order and chaos. Creation itself requires a balance of each principle, else confusion." That was it, and then the passage picked up where it had left off, cataloguing the various grains, insects, fish, and aquatic plants that comprised the preferred edibles of the goose. It was maddening.

He glanced up at Amelia. She had sheaves of parchment spread over the small table, and she was completely focused on whatever she was writing—probably a report of some nature, since they would arrive at the capital tomorrow. His eyes slid back down to the book in his lap, and feeling an unfamiliar tinge of embarrassment, he let them slip over to the margin.

Like the majority of the marginalia in this particular book, it was a story of seduction. Okay, it was a rather graphic story of seduction, he admitted to himself, even as he struggled to control his breathing and imagined himself touching Amelia like that, imagined her writhing in his arms . . .

And remembered how it felt to have her in his arms. Remembered how it felt to _feel_.

Just a taste, the Lady had said. His memories of Arma Gimas were fragmented at best: vague impressions with no continuity. Images of various scenes. But he remembered feeling. He remembered the desire, the way it felt to touch a woman—things he had wanted to feel for so long, had thought it impossible to feel with this damned chimera body. The sensations had faded with the night. But readings these stories in the margins of _The Menagerie_ sparked the memory of those feelings—sparked them enough for him to react to Amelia, so that he genuinely wanted to caress her, to kiss her and give her pleasure . . .

It was sick. He needed random stories, clearly written by perverts, in order to offer Amelia affection. He had tried using his imagination, but he was too inexperienced. He had been cursed with this body early in adolescence, before any interest in the opposite sex had really developed. And although he had heard Zolf and Rodimus talking around the campfire at night, their stories had left him feeling just slightly disgusted, and quite frankly, relieved that he did not have to worry about such things. Now . . . now, he was the pervert, the deviant. But even as he castigated himself, he could not help but feel some small measure of . . . well, he was not sure what exactly. Happiness? Relief? Whatever it was, it was good that there was some way he could seem normal to Amelia. As normal as it was possible to be in a stone body, that is.

And yet, there was shame wrapped up in that feeling as well, because showing Amelia more physical affection enabled him to continue to hide the true nature of his body from her. Her memories of Arma Gimas were even more muddled than his—especially after the swordfight between the Lord and Lady—but she remembered waking up in his arms. Without these stories, he would have been forced to tell her the truth, if only to explain the abrupt return to his normal mode of interacting with her.

Once again, Zelgadis glanced surreptitiously over at Amelia. She still seemed engrossed in her report, or whatever it was. For a moment, he debated reading another story. Instead, he closed the book with a loud thunk. She flashed him a fleeting smile before reaching for an unopened envelope. Instead of opening it, she stared at it with a slight frown.

Zelgadis was more than a bit miffed. He was ready for her, and he wanted her attention on him now, not on the court business that had occupied her for most of the evening. He slid off the bed and moved across the room until he stood behind her. She glanced up at him quizzically, but when he started massaging her shoulders, she leaned back in her chair, her arms dropping limply to the table. "Mmmm, right there," she murmured just as his fingers encountered a tight knot between her shoulder and neck.

"You've been working all evening," he said softly as he worked patiently at the knot.

"Mmm," she responded absently.

"How much longer?" he asked, wishing he knew if she was distracted by his touch or by something else.

"Honestly?" she said with a sigh. "I could probably work all night and not be done." She sat up straight then, pulling gently away from his touch. "But I really do have to finish this part, and it'll take me a few more hours at least." She sighed again, and this time it was tinged with sadness. "How long do you think you'll stay in Seyruun this time?" she asked softly, as she flipped the unopened envelope and tapped it against the table. He recognized it as one of the envelopes that had come for her this morning.

"At least as long as Lina stays," he replied, trying to keep the snarl out of his tone. He did not like the way she was pulling away from him, both physically and emotionally. No, he did not like it one bit. He reached over her shoulder, cupped her chin, and exerted gentle pressure, turning her face so that he could see her eyes. "How long do you want me to stay?" he breathed as he ran his thumb over her lips.

Something in her eyes melted, and she leaned slightly into his caress. Then she pulled back. Again. "I really need to finish this," she said.

Anger bloomed. "Fine," he said tightly as he let go of her, his hand clenching into a fist. He snatched up _The Menagerie_ and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he stepped over the threshold, sounding both surprised and annoyed.

"To give Lina her damn book back," he snarled as he shut the door forcefully, but not before he heard her sigh of relief.

* * *

"Daddy!" Amelia hurled herself into her father's open arms, relieved to finally be home.

"Amelia!" he shouted joyfully as he caught her in a bear hug and twirled her in a circle. Then he set her down next to him, his arm remaining comfortingly around her shoulder. "Zelgadis," he said politely. "Miss Lina, Gourry. Welcome back to Seyruun."

"Hey, Phil," Lina said casually. "How's it going?" She sounded normal enough, but Amelia was concerned about how pale she looked.

"It's going well, Miss Lina," her father said expansively. "Quite well, indeed. I'm sure you'd all like to freshen up before dinner," he commented with a smile. "Your regular quarters are ready for you," he continued, "and I'll have someone send you a mid-afternoon snack to tide you over."

"You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl," Lina laughed. "It's great to be back in Seyruun!" She leaned against Gourry and elbowed him. "C'mon, Gourry, let's go find the food!"

Amelia watched them rush off, and she noticed that while he never quite touched her, Gourry's hand was close by Lina's arm, and Lina seemed just slightly off-balance. She shook her head slightly. She would share her concerns with the Priest of Ceipheed when she talked to him about providing training for Lina.

"The council is meeting this afternoon," her father said quietly as he offered her his arm. "There's much we need to discuss."

Amelia nodded in agreement as she took his arm and followed him to his study. Zelgadis trailed behind, giving every indication that he planned to follow them into this meeting.

Her father stopped at the door of his study and looked at Zelgadis quizzically.

Zelgadis returned his gaze, and something passed between them that she could not quite gauge. Whatever it was, it took her father by surprise, and he gave a short nod before gesturing Zelgadis to precede them into the room.

The entire palace was her home, but there was no place else where she felt as comfortable and safe as she did in her father's study. It was an open square room, with a giant picture window dominating one wall, and a cavernous fireplace on the opposite side. As a child, she remembered sitting in the fireplace once in summer, imagining that she was on an adventure in a cave. The servants had thrown a fit at the mess she had made, tramping soot all over the place. Hanging over the fireplace was a family portrait: her parents, her older sister, and herself. It had been painted shortly after her birth, as she was just a little babe in her mother's arms. There were other portraits scattered about the room, mainly of her mother, but also some of her and her sister as well. A couple of over-stuffed bookcases lined the wall opposite the door, and there were chairs scattered about. Her father's desk tended to move depending on the seasons: sometimes it was close to the fire, and other days it was closer to the window. Today it was more in the middle.

Zelgadis stood in front of her father's desk, staring at the wall, while her father helped her into an overstuffed chair before taking his seat behind the desk. "Report," he said curtly to Zelgadis, folding his arms across his chest.

Zelgadis continued to stare at the wall for a few moments before focusing on her father. "The trip out was completely uneventful," he said. "Lim seems to be an ordered and well-cared for land. The villages all seemed moderately prosperous, and the people relatively happy. I do think the Lord of Lim has more income than he's acknowledged. His palace is just a bit too sumptuous to be funded from taxes on crops and commerce alone." Zelgadis paused. "Lord Gottwald met privately with Amelia several times for negotiations. I'm sure Amelia can fill you in on those meetings." He paused again, considering his words. "Gourry was able to confirm that all of Lord Gottwald's personal servants seem to have mercenary backgrounds, and considerable training. He said he thought the butler might have been an officer in a crack merc unit he had fought against several years ago, although the butler gave no indication that he recognized Gourry."

Amelia looked quickly between her father and Zelgadis, and realized that this was no idle comment. "Wait," she interrupted. "Why didn't you tell me that this trip was to gather intelligence about Jeremiah? All you told me was that you wanted me to negotiate trade relations," she accused.

Her father looked both hurt and surprised. "I didn't tell you because there was nothing to tell. When Zelgadis became your bodyguard, I asked him to keep me appraised if he discovered anything he thought I needed to know," he explained, nodding at Zelgadis.

"Why didn't you tell me, then?" Amelia demanded indignantly, turning on Zelgadis. "Why keep things secret until now?"

Zelgadis winced almost imperceptibly. Then his expression hardened. "My agreement was to keep _Phil_ informed," he pointed out in that calm unruffled tone he usually had. "Besides, we've had other things to deal with on the trip home."

"Still," Amelia pressed, "you could've told me when I was working on my report, when I shared my concerns with you."

"I was far more concerned that you were meeting with him alone when you felt like you were in over your head," he growled.

"You two can argue about this later," her father interrupted, seeming both amused and concerned.

Zelgadis nodded with relief. Amelia looked at the two of them for a moment, trying to figure out why she was so annoyed about this. All she could figure out was that she felt insulted, both for herself, and also on behalf of Jeremiah. "Yes," she finally agreed, "we can argue about this later."

Zelgadis flicked a glance in her direction—one that she could not quite interpret—before returning his attention to her father. "Lina confirmed that there is a great deal of magical protection surrounding the palace. She suspects from the layout and the internal reinforcements that the palace was built on a research lab." Zelgadis paused again, then he sighed inaudibly. "On the second day of the return journey, Lina tried to attack Amelia after having some sort of nightmare. Fortunately, Gourry and I arrived in time to stop her. We changed sleeping arrangements at that point: Gourry stayed with Lina, and I kept Amelia with me. Lina doesn't seem to be aware of the fact that she's been trying to attack Amelia. She's under some kind of stress that causes her to snap periodically. Gourry's the only one who can deal with her effectively when that happens. The rest of the time, she treats Amelia with the same sisterly affection she normally shows." He took a deep breath as if about to say something else, but apparently had changed his mind, because he let it out and relaxed slightly, clearly done with his report.

Her father sat quietly for a long moment, staring at nothing while he considered what Zelgadis had said. Finally, he uncrossed his arms and placed his palms flat against his desk. "It's possible that I'll be sending Amelia back to Lim in a few days, after the council meets. If I do, I'd like you to accompany her again."

Zelgadis nodded his assent, and again something passed between the two men.

"Thank you," her father said simply. Zelgadis nodded again, and then left the room after giving her another glance she could not quite interpret.

Unaccountably, it made her angry, in a petulant kind of way. She barely resisted sticking her tongue out at him as he left the room, but thinking about doing it made her feel better.

After the door closed, her father stood up, and poured himself a small glass of brandy from a decanter sitting on one of the shelves. "Want one?" he asked.

Amelia smiled and shook her head. Her father swirled the brandy around the snifter before taking a small sip and seating himself on the couch. He glanced at her with a twinkle in his eye and patted the spot next to him. It was such a familiar gesture, Amelia felt some of her tension melt away. She was home, and there was nothing her father could not fix.

"So," her father prodded after she had seated herself next to him, "how did it go?"

Amelia handed her father a folder that contained her report, and then she gave him the sealed envelope Jeremiah had asked her to deliver. He dropped the folder on a side table and opened the envelope. After reading through the message, he read through it again. When he put it down, they talked about her visit. Well, she did most of the talking, starting with the family they had found by the Cylte. As her father held her, she felt some of the residual horror recede. After she felt a bit more stable, she turned to the more mundane, first describing the negotiations, and then some of her impressions. Her father sipped his brandy and nodded at the appropriate moments, listening in silence until she finished.

"Zelgadis said you felt like you were in over your head," he commented as he stood and crossed the room to refill his glass.

Amelia nodded. "I had a hard time explaining it," she confessed, "even to myself. I wanted to trust him. At the same time, he seemed duplicitous, like he was hiding really important information. He kept changing his mind, wanting to meet with me privately, but nothing would come of the meetings." She sighed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. "He reminded me of Zelgadis," she muttered grumpily, feeling some of her tension return.

"How so?" her father asked quickly.

"They both have all these layers," she replied slowly, thinking about the moment when she had recognized the similarity between the two men. "The surface layer conceals what lies beneath. They're both keeping secrets that would expose the difference between the layers, but even though the layers are different, they're all true." She shook her head. "I'm not making much sense, am I?"

"How are things progressing between you and Zelgadis?" her father asked curiously with an indulgent smile. "Sharing a room is quite a step up." After all, she had made no secret of her affection for him. She knew that her father had offered Zelgadis the position as her bodyguard and escort to give her excuses to stay closer to him.

Amelia shrugged unhappily, surprised to find that she was suddenly struggling to hold back tears. "It seemed to be going well. I was surprised when he wanted to share a room with me after I suggested that Gourry stay with Lina, since he's been such a stickler for protocol. He started opening up to me, sharing his thoughts. He even kissed me," she declared with a watery smile. Then she frowned. "But ever since we left Eshar, he's been acting . . ." she trailed off, looking for the right word. He acted more affectionate, touching her more frequently, and even kissing her occasionally . . . but . . . Something was off. It almost felt like he offered her affection because it was some sort of duty. When he touched her, she felt it all the way down to her core, but it did not seem to affect him at all. He could have been touching anything, instead of her. It made her feel like a thing, like a sculpture, instead of a person. It was getting harder and harder to endure.

"Wait," her father suddenly said in surprise, interrupting her thoughts "did you say Eshar?"

"Yeah," she replied, shifting gears. "I wanted to ask you about that, too. How can there be a village I've never heard of so close to the capital?"

Her father's reaction was not what she expected. She thought he would be surprised to learn about the village, but instead, he was frowning and staring down at his folded arms, like he was trying to decide what to say.

"Daddy?" she prompted, after the silence dragged out.

Her father sighed, glanced at the clock on one of the bookcases, and sighed again. "Eshar will have to wait," he finally said. "The council will be meeting soon, and there's something we need to discuss first." He placed his brandy on his desk and turned to look at her, crossing his hands over his chest, underscoring how serious this new topic was.

"Okay," she said slowly. Something about his attitude had her off balance.

"Lord Jeremiah wants permission to court you," he finally said.

Amelia felt the world shift around her, making her feel distinctly askew, like she was going to slip off of the couch, even though she felt it supporting her. While she struggled to pull her faculties together, to focus on how to respond, she heard someone say enthusiastically, "That's wonderful!"

And then she realized that she was the one who had said it.

* * *

Lina stretched out on the enormous bed in her suite, luxuriating in the feel of a soft feather-stuffed mattress with high quality linens, and anticipating a sumptuous meal that she would not have to pay for. It was wonderful to be back in Seyruun!

Maybe if she kept repeating that thought, she would actually believe it.

With a sigh, she rolled onto her side and curled up while she stared unseeing at the rich russet damask covering the wall. The truth was that she felt edgy beyond belief. She was in enemy territory, and all she wanted to do was grab Gourry and get out before it was too late. Two things stopped her: first, it was stupid to think of Seyruun as enemy territory. This room was the closest thing she had to a home since leaving Zephilia. Unfortunately, telling herself that she was stupid to feel like she was in enemy territory did nothing to make the feeling go away, so it was really the second thing that was keeping her here. The Tesha had told her that to stray from her path was to invite peril. While she was not really one for following instructions—unless they suited her—her recent nightmares gave her a good taste of what peril awaited her, and she would seize on anything to avoid seeing them become reality.

The path led to Seyruun. There was something she needed to do here. She just hoped that she could do it quickly and get the hell out of here before she blew something up. And she _really_ hoped that blowing up Seyruun was _not_ the "something" she needed to do here!

At least she was no longer hearing voices argue in her head.

No, she just felt itchy and edgy and annoyed. Not much of an improvement. The only plus that she could see was that she did not feel like she was going insane. No, she just felt like she was going to be attacked any moment.

Abruptly, she jumped off the bed and paced her room, needing to move. Maybe she should go find Gourry. Damn, but it was going to be inconvenient being in Seyruun. His quarters were in the same wing as hers—just on the other side of this wall, in fact—but getting to him meant going down the hall. Which was fine during the day, and not something she was going to do at night. The halls in the palace were never empty, and servants gossiped like crazy. She hardly needed to add grist to the rumor mill that always swirled around her and Gourry. She leaned her forehead against the wall, fighting against the urge to just blow a hole in it, tempting though it was. A gaping hole between her bedroom and Gourry's was not going to help things!

There was a perfunctory tap on her door, and then her maid, Ailith, poked her head in the room. "Do you want help dressing for dinner?" she asked.

"Dinner?" Lina asked in surprise, wondering how much time she had spent brooding but grateful for the interruption and distraction.

"Yes," Ailith replied with a smile as she headed for the wardrobe holding the gowns Lina wore when formality was demanded. "His Highness decided to hold a formal banquet tonight."

"Any idea why?" Lina asked more to make conversation than anything else.

"Well, the Prince didn't say," Ailith said slowly as she examined one of the gowns, but her tone clearly indicated that she did have an idea why Phil was suddenly throwing a formal banquet. She pulled out another gown and held it up, examining it cursorily, and then rejecting it. "What do you think of this one?" she asked, pulling out an ornate dress.

Lina frowned as she examined the gown of ruby-colored brocade with black satin accents. "Do I get a choice?" she asked with mock-wistfulness. It was a ritual question, part of an easy banter that had initially served to cover awkwardness she felt about having another person wait on her, and had developed into a casual friendship that was renewed whenever she returned to Seyruun. Well, a sort of friendship, she amended to herself. Ailith never quite let her forget who was the servant and who was not.

Ailith raked her eyes over Lina, making no effort to hide what she was doing. "No," she replied with a flippant lilt in her voice. "Your sense of fashion is still as atrocious as ever," she declared while her smile and the dancing glint in her eye belied the insult.

"This," Lina said as she gestured at her attire, "is much more practical for travel than that," she gestured at the gown in Ailith's arms.

"True," Ailith responded airily. "But you're not traveling right now. You're safe in the palace of Seyruun." She placed the gown carefully on the bed and turned again to inspect Lina. "And my reputation is on the line."

Lina tried to suppress the frisson that was the response to Ailith's words about being safe, but it was clear that Ailith had seen it. "C'mon," she said in that same airy tone. "It won't be _that_ bad."

"No," Lina said slowly, placing her hands on her hips, "it's just that I'll be stuffed into a tight dress and won't be able to actually eat anything at the banquet!"

Ailith laughed. "All the better to keep your girlish figure!" she declared. "Although," she said slowly, ignoring the reflexive twitch over Lina's left eye, "you're definitely more curvy than you were last time you were here."

The comment startled Lina enough to make her glance down. She had not really noticed, but her breasts did seem a bit larger. There was the barest suggestion of strain in her tunic across the bust. Come to think of it, she had been tugging a bit more to do up the buttons the past few days. What surprised her the most, though, was the surge of ambivalence she suddenly felt. Somewhere along the way, she had stopped really caring. She still automatically bristled if someone commented disparagingly about her lack of a figure, but it was more in the nature of habit than from any real conviction.

Ailith bustled off into the bathroom, and Lina could hear her drawing a bath. Lina sat down on the bed and traced a finger over the brocade bodice. Red and black. For some reason, she found the colors soothing. They were her colors: colors uniquely suited to one who walked the path of destruction.

The barest wisp of an idea skitted at the edge of her thoughts: something tied up with destruction and color. Instead of chasing after it, she let it go. The idea needed time to germinate, to grow. And she needed time: to expand her awareness so that she was not so tightly focused.

Taking a deep breath, Lina pushed herself off the bed and headed for her bath. She still felt like she was in enemy territory, and there was probably nothing she could do to banish that feeling. So, she just needed to act like she usually did when she was surrounded by enemies: stay alert, project confidence, and use every scrap of skill, instinct, and luck to exploit whatever chances existed to make it through safely to the other side.

* * *

"Tell me why I'm here, again?" Zelgadis grumbled as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

Gourry glanced up from the sword he was examining. "Because you didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon having people fawn over you while they prepare for whatever Phil has planned tonight," he commented before attempting a pattern with the blade.

True enough. Not that he would admit it out loud, though, or enjoyed hearing it said. Zelgadis watched Gourry move. He was grace, confidence, and elegance, even using an unfamiliar weapon. After a moment, Gourry handed the sword back to the proprietor, thanked him for his time, and started to leave.

"No dice?" Zelgadis asked after they were out of ear-shot. It was the fifth weapon shop they had visited. He was not sure what he had expected when Gourry asked him to help him pick out a sword for Lina. So far, his "help" had consisted mainly of keeping the other man company and trying not to look too bored while Gourry tested—and rejected—nearly every weapon in each shop.

"Nah," Gourry commented absently. "The balance was there, but the steel was too brittle."

In spite of himself, Zelgadis asked, "how could you tell?"

"It didn't sound right," Gourry replied. "And it wouldn't flex in my hand."

"Gourry." Zelgadis tried to hold on to his patience. He should have expected it, since the other man had been giving him similarly un-useful comments all afternoon. "Steel isn't supposed to flex. That's why we use steel instead of something like copper."

Gourry looked at him and then shrugged. "Suit yourself," he responded easily. "Let's try the next street over," he said after glancing at the sun.

"You can try the next street over," Zelgadis shot back, his patience snapping. "_I'm_ heading back."

"Suit yourself," Gourry repeated. The words were said in that exact same easy-going tone, but Zelgadis had the strongest feeling that he had just been assessed—and found lacking.

"Look," Zelgadis said evenly, working hard not to clench his teeth as he spoke, "just because I don't see the need to test every single—" he interrupted himself at Gourry's bewildered expression.

"I didn't say anything," Gourry protested, the exact same way he did when he said or did something that pissed Lina off. It seemed genuine.

Zelgadis suspected that it was fake. Part of that persona he adopted. "Cut the crap," he growled.

The vacuous bewildered expression on Gourry's face did not change, but Zelgadis again felt the assessment. This time, though, it was followed by a grudging respect. "Fine," Gourry said with a shrug. Apparently, he considered that the end of the particular conversation because he turned and started for the next street over. Suddenly he stopped, his back still turned. "Care for some advice?" he asked in a peculiarly neutral tone.

Gourry offering advice? This one was certainly new. He was tempted to reply with something rude, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. "Sure," he bit out.

Gourry did not respond immediately, nor did he turn around. "You'll see a lot more if you just refocus your view," he finally said in that same neutral tone. Then he deliberately walked away and turned the corner out of sight.

Zelgadis fought the urge to snarl or chase after him. Not only was he offering advice, he was offering cryptic advice. There was nothing wrong with his vision, he saw plenty: enough to see through that façade Gourry presented to the world to hide what was really going on inside his head.

Enough to find his cure? He fought against the frisson that made him want to shiver. Lina's question about him missing things that were important because he thought they were irrelevant echoed in his mind, resonating with Gourry's comment.

But what had he failed to see today because he was not looking for it?

He continued to brood all the way back to the palace, and then endured the frantic scolding from Bryce, the manservant Phil had assigned to him. He continued to brood all through the preparations Bryce seemed to think were necessary to make him presentable enough to serve as Her Royal Highness's escort, offering only monosyllabic replies when the lilt of the conversation indicated it was expected.

"There," Bryce declared in an excited and hopeful tone that jolted Zelgadis out of his brooding. "What do you think?" he asked as he held up a mirror.

Zelgadis stared in shock at his reflection. "What did you do to me?" he breathed, bringing a hand up to his cheek, half-expecting (half-hoping) to feel warm flesh, and suppressing a surge of disappointment at the familiar feel of rock.

Bryce grinned at him and held up a bucket filled with a tan slurry mixture in one hand and a buffing cloth in the other. "Marble polish," he replied. "Looks good, don't it?"

It did. Although his skin still had the same bluish-gray cast, there was an almost translucent glow to it, as if the surface was lit from within. The darker rocks around his eyes seemed to blend in more, instead of sticking out like afterthoughts glued to the surface of his face. For the first time since Rezo had cursed him with this body, he found his reflection pleasing: he looked more like an oddly colored human than a monstrous and misshapen animated jumble of rock. He smiled at Bryce. "What made you think to try it?" he asked.

"His Highness's idea," Bryce replied as he slipped a pair of pants off the valet. "He told me to make sure you shine tonight."

Zelgadis was not sure if he should laugh or face-fault. Phil probably was referring to his appearance in general rather than his complexion. On the other hand, he was so pleased with the result, he could hardly be upset with Bryce for taking literally what was probably a random comment.

Would Amelia like it?

What would he do if she did not?

He suppressed a sigh as Bryce tied on the sash that indicated Zelgadis's service to the royal family. He should have talked to Amelia last night instead of storming out in a fit of pique. Not that it had done any good trying to give Lina her book back. He had pounded on her door a couple of times, but there had been no answer, making him wonder if she had gone off bandit hunting again. Or, what was more likely, that she had shielded the room with a silence spell again. When he had finally returned to their room, Amelia had pretty much ignored him, and he had been too annoyed to make the effort to deal with her. He had hoped to catch her after the council meeting, but she had been sucked up into the preparations for Phil's impromptu banquet. Now, he was going to have to wait until tonight or tomorrow to even hope to have a chance to talk to her.

Bryce stepped back and appraised him critically. He made some adjustments to the sash, nodded, and then helped Zelgadis into a formal sleeveless over-robe of pewter silk. Then he held up the mirror. Zelgadis felt a smile bloom yet again. Somehow, the color of the over-robe complemented his skin tone, giving it a slight peach cast that made it look even more like normal human skin. He almost looked like his old normal self.

If not for one major detail, he almost thought that maybe he could get used to this body after all!

* * *

Gourry prowled the banquet hall, wondering how much longer it was going to take Lina to get ready. When he had knocked on her door to escort her to the banquet, her maid Ailith had given him a long speculative look, told him that Lina was not yet ready, and shooed him off.

Phil, Amelia, and Zelgadis also had not shown up yet, but that was far less surprising. Like Amelia, Phil had a flare for the dramatic. He was sure their arrival would be carefully timed for the most impact.

So here he was, surrounded by the well-to-do of Seyruun with nothing much to do. The rest of the nobles milled about, holding elegant glasses filled with before-dinner aperitifs and nibbling on dainty morsels. A string quartet was set up in a corner of the room, producing music that wove through the multiple conversations.

It was just like any other formal function he had ever attended in Seyruun. And since Lina seemed to think of Seyruun as the closest thing to home, he had attended a lot.

Yes, it was just like every other formal gathering, except that it was not. For one thing, he seemed to be the focus of attention, and he was finding it distinctly unnerving. He knew that he stuck out: he was at least a head taller than any of the other males. And instead of wearing the pale-colored loose-fitting tunic and flowing pants that the male nobles of Seyruun preferred, he wore tight-fitting black leather pants and a fitted doublet of sapphire velvet over a white silk shirt: for all their fancy appearance, they were practical clothes that would not get in the way if he needed to fight. Still, he had _always_ been taller and dressed differently from everyone else. No one had ever seemed to notice before.

Not tonight. The women were all looking at him like they were undressing him. The men were all looking at him like they wished he would go away. He caught quite a few of them glancing at their wives and companions, noticing them obviously looking at him. Several of the unmarried women—and some of the married ones as well—had approached him to flirt. Some had gone so far as to offer innuendo that served as thinly veiled invitation.

He had been approached by women before. Just never like this.

It was unnerving, in a heady intoxicating way. It was also an opportunity to give the servants something to talk about aside from any potential relationship between him and Lina. So when the women flirted with him, he flirted right back. He could not remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much at one of these formal functions.

He just wished Lina would let him flirt with her like this.

Much to his surprise, Amelia, Zelgadis, and even Phil, who had a tendency to show up fashionably late, arrived before Lina. Amelia entered on the arm of Zelgadis, but they separated soon after, mingling in separate directions. Zel also seemed to be attracting his share of admirers. Phil made his entrance soon after, appearing on a balcony to a fanfare of trumpets and then somersaulting dramatically to the ground floor. The guests who had been milling around that part of the hall scrambled to get out of their sovereign's way. Phil, of course, landed gracefully, his cape billowing, and then boisterously started greeting people. He was like a force of nature, and his voice carried clearly over the general babble of conversation as he moved throughout the room.

After Phil's arrival, the servants starting offering the guests sparkling champagne in crystal flutes, and a new round of bite-sized food appeared. It seemed like this banquet was going to be more informal, rather than a stuffy sit-down affair.

The servants were on the third round of food before Lina arrived. The moment she entered the banquet hall, he felt the mood of the guests shift slightly and a cluster of young men converged on her, each vying for her attention. She wore a fancy dress as she always did for these types of functions, but instead of wearing her hair loose in her normal fashion, it was elaborately styled: gathered up and arranged in such a way that curls cascaded over her left shoulder. He could also tell that she was wearing makeup—also unusual—that had been skillfully applied so that she looked both like an innocent maid and a dangerous sultry woman.

As soon as he could tactfully extricate himself from the clutches of the woman he was currently flirting with, he crossed the room to her. "My Lady," he said as he sketched her a somewhat archaic bow and then offered her his arm.

Something flickered in her eyes, but the mischievous grin she flashed him as she took his proffered arm was all Lina. "Are the nibbles any good?" she asked as she wrinkled her nose, momentarily spoiling the effect of her makeup. "I hope so, 'cause all I can do is nibble in this dress," she muttered.

"They're decent," he responded as he navigated them across the room to a servant carrying a silver tray. He looked down at her, and he knew his eyes were smoldering when he said softly so that only she could hear, "but I'd much rather nibble on you."

"Gourry!" she gasped, sounding a bit breathless.

He snagged a couple morsels from the tray, handing her one. "Don't worry," he said with a grin once the servant had moved off. "Tonight, I'll be equal opportunity."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

He smiled in response then lifted her hand to his lips. "Save the first dance for me, my Lady," he said, knowing his smile was just slightly feral: reminding her that he could play the hunter quite easily. Before she could respond, he let the ebb and flow of the crowd separate them, and he suppressed a surge of unfamiliar jealousy as his spot was instantly claimed by another young man, who offered her a glass while lifting his own in a toast.

Fair was fair. If he was going to flirt with the ladies, he had to let the men flirt with his Lady. He could tolerate it, especially since it gave _him_ the opportunity to flirt with his Lady.

And someday, he would flirt exclusively with her in public so that everyone would know that she was his lover.

* * *

Lina took another sip of her drink, feeling more than a bit giddy. She had discovered a new power, and she intended to explore it fully—or at least as much was decent.

The men flitted toward her, like moths attracted to a flame. They seemed almost mesmerized, but also wary: they knew she was dangerous, but she knew their wariness had little to do with her magic powers. The women glared at her, particularly when she got close to Gourry or Zelgadis, both of whom had a constant flock of admirers. The ones around Zel were much more subtle since most of his attention was clearly focused on Amelia. He did look good, though. She was not sure what he had done to himself, but he looked much . . . smoother. Less bumpy and lumpy. Or something.

Most of her attention was focused on testing her new power. Strange that she had never thought of sex as a power before. A random memory flitted through her mind, one of Sylphiel declaring that she would use violence, money, and sex appeal to rescue Gourry from Hellmaster. Lina had not understood it at the time; not only was it incredibly out of character for Sylphiel to take such an approach, it had seemed like such an odd combination. But she was realizing that it was just the other side of the coin: heads was sex, tails was destruction. She smiled to herself. There was a deeper truth in that thought, but one she knew she should examine later, under much different circumstances.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," a booming voice cut over the conversations, just as the string quartet finished the last notes of a stately waltz. It took a few moments for the buzz of sound to die down as the guests turned their attention to the raised dais where Phil and Amelia currently stood. Then the silence stretched out for several moments until the master of ceremonies was certain he had everyone's attention. "May I present His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Philionel El Di Seyruun!"

Everyone applauded politely while Phil stood and held his arm out to Amelia. Lina threaded her way through the throng to stand close to Gourry. Phil had a broad smile on his face, but it did not quite reach his eyes.

"My people!" Phil declared in his raspy deep voice, "As you know, we have recently entered into negotiations with the people of Lim." He waited for the polite applause to die down. "Our negotiations have been successful beyond our wildest expectations. Lord Jeremiah Gottwald, ruler of Lim, has requested permission to court my daughter, Princess Amelia, thus raising the possibility that the kingdom of Lim could be joined with our kingdom of Seyruun."

A smattering applause smeared the room, not quite masking the shocked gasps of several. Along with the majority of the room, Lina looked over at Zelgadis. His face was its typical stony mask, revealing nothing of what he felt.

Amelia stepped forward at that point. She was smiling serenely, but just as with Phil, the smile did not quite reach her eyes. "I have decided to accept Lord Jeremiah's suit," Amelia announced in a clear ringing tone. "It is my hope to be the bridge that links our two kingdoms."

In spite of herself, Lina shuddered at Amelia's choice of words, thinking of the ruined bridge that had spanned the Cylte, and of the carnage someone had wreaked upon a family. Gourry placed his hand on her elbow, offering her both comfort and stability. She gave him a shaky smile and refocused on Amelia and Phil.

"Zel didn't know," Gourry said so softly, only she heard him.

Lina flicked a glance between Gourry and Zel, whose face remained completely impassive. Then she looked at Amelia. Every so often she flicked a glance at Zel, and in those moments, there was something in her eyes that seemed both sad and angry, and also seemed to be a challenge of some sort. When she looked at the rest of the people in the hall, on the other hand, she almost seemed her normal self. Lina felt her temper spike. She was sure that Zel had done something.

Another man pushed his way through the throng, stopping just short of the dais where Amelia and Phil stood. Lina recognized him: Zander had been one of her more persistent suitors this evening. There, he bowed formally. "On behalf of my Lord, Jeremiah Gottwald," he declaimed in a deep baritone voice, "I stand witness to Princess Amelia's decision." Amelia held her hand out to him, and he escorted her onto the dance floor. The string quartet hastily gathered up their instruments and started playing another stately waltz.

Most of the crowd watched, captivated. Lina knew from personal experience that Zander was an excellent dancer: not only did he maneuver about the floor as if he owned it, he seemed to be able to guide his partners through intricate variations whether they knew them or not. Lina knew that Amelia was a good dancer. With Zander, she seemed even better. She sparkled in a way that Lina had never really seen before. As if she had truly come alive.

Lina glanced over at Zel. He was maintaining that stony mask while he mostly ignored any attempts by assorted nobles to engage him in conversation. She glanced back at Amelia and Zander just as the dance ended. Amelia was laughing in delight, and although she was very subtle about it, her eyes kept darting toward Zelgadis. Lina felt her temper ratchet up another notch at the pain that flickered through Amelia's eyes in those moments.

She exchanged a glance with Gourry. He gave her a brief nod and then moved to intercept Amelia while Lina stalked off to deal with Zel.

* * *

"I want to talk to you."

"Not now," Zel growled at Lina, not taking his eyes off Amelia, who was now dancing with Phil. Compared to Zander, Phil was a horrible dancer, but he did not seem to care, laughing boisterously when he messed up on a step. Amelia kept giving him these little glances that were daring him to . . . do something.

He was furious and hurt and he did not want to deal with Lina in one of her moods right now.

"Yes, now," Lina snarled back, grabbing his hand and tugging.

Zel planted his feet. Lina tugged harder. She was strong—he had forgotten how strong she was—but he had mass on his side. Suddenly, she stopped tugging, while simultaneously hooking one of his ankles with her foot. It was enough to push him off balance, and before he could recover, she was dragging him across the floor toward one of the many alcoves in the room, ignoring the soft hoots and indelicate comments made by those who had consumed enough to lower inhibitions.

"Now," she growled menacingly once she had him in an alcove. "What did you do to Amelia?"

Zelgadis folded his arms over his chest and glared back at her. "This is none of your business," he said rudely.

"I've _made_ it my business," she shot back, radiating fury. "I warned you not to hurt her."

"Back off, Lina," he threatened, matching her fury. "Back off _now_."

"Or else what," she taunted.

Goaded beyond all caution, he reacted without thought, hurling a spell in her direction without fully realizing what he was doing. He felt dark pleasure at the instant of surprise and panic that flickered through her eyes, before she cast her counter, neutralizing his spell just before it reached her.

Lina assessed him. She was still furious, he could tell, but it had been subsumed while she focused on him as an opponent. "Let's play Zelgadis," she challenged. "Let's see who's better, you or me." She gave him an evil grin. "You beat me once, but don't think I'll be that easy this time."

A stray feeling of trepidation was ignored. He was too angry to think clearly. Without warning, he went on the offensive, using his innate speed to juke and present an unpredictable target. Before she could focus on him, he was on her, grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming her against the wall. A moment later, he finished casting his attack spell, and instead of holding her against the wall, he was pushing her into it. Literally. He had developed this particular spell after experiencing something similar while exploring one of Rezo's many labs, but he had never had the opportunity to use it.

His choice of attack clearly shocked her; he could see it in her eyes, even as she struggled against the inexorable pressure he exerted against her shoulders, forcing them back and sliding them into the wall. She had no leverage to use against him, and he was going to keep it that way.

Without warning, she flicked her hand at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tiny globes of light a fraction of a moment before they slammed into him. He had barely enough time to consider and dismiss the move as a feint before he felt his energy and will being sapped. He pushed harder against her shoulders, but she had somehow figured out a way to brace herself. And while he tried to immobilize her, she kept sending scatter shot of those tiny globes of light that seemed to tear at his consciousness.

One moment, he was pushing against her with all his strength. The next, he was trying to force his eyes open, wondering why he felt like he was floating. He tried to move his arms or legs, and all he felt was the slight resistance of some viscous liquid. Panic gave him the strength to open his eyes. He did not see any watery surroundings. Instead, he saw Lina looking down at him. A moment later, he realized that he was sprawled on the floor.

"Looks like I win this time," Lina said with a sharp grin that did nothing to lessen the fury that still simmered in her eyes. "So, I'll ask you again: what did you do to Amelia?"

He hated her. In that moment, he hated her with everything in him. "What gives you the right to make my relationship with Amelia your business, when you've made it clear your relationship with Gourry is off limits?" he demanded viciously as he pushed himself up off the floor.

She said nothing, but he could tell his barb went home.

He pushed his advantage. "What makes you think you can threaten me, anyways? What makes you think you can do anything worse to me than's already been done?" he demanded as he gestured angrily at his body.

"Oh yes," she broke in sarcastically, "your horrible, horrible body. The one that gives you any and all advantage, the one you describe as 'special' any time it causes a normal attack against you to fail," she said scathingly. "The one that gives you speed and strength and a magic capacity that makes you almost as good as Gourry with a sword and almost as good as me with magic. The one that protects you from injury and death." She sucked in a quick breath. "It's always whine, whine, whine about poor you, stuck in that monstrous body, while you ignore other people's feelings and desires. Amelia wants you. She doesn't give a damn about your body. But no, you can't accept her feelings, because you're a selfish bastard who only gives a damn about your own selfish desires!"

"I have nothing to give her!" he spat bitterly. The fury and hurt festered in him, because he had tried to give Amelia what he could, and apparently it was not good enough. He dug his fingers into the wall behind him, feeling the stone give under his grasp. "You think I don't want her? You think I don't care? Yes, this body makes me strong!" he bit out. "So strong, I rarely need to eat or sleep. So strong I can't feel pain, or much of anything else! Rezo created me to be his weapon," he growled. "And that's exactly what this body is. Nothing extraneous: just a weapon."

Despite his anger, he saw the moment she understood. He could see the wheels turning as she considered all the bits and pieces of information she had and came to the correct conclusion. He lifted his chin defiantly while her gaze slid down to his crotch, assessing. He was not sure what he expected from her at that point. Pity? An apology? He wanted none of it.

What he got was cold fury. She closed the distance between them, grabbed his shirt in a fist and pushed him back against the wall. "And you haven't told Amelia any of this, have you," she declared, her tone vibrating with violence while her eyes bored into his. "You tell her," she ordered implacably. "Exactly what you told me."

"And if I don't?" he challenged, trying to ignore the frisson racing down his spine.

"_I'll_ tell her," Lina declared. Without another word, she released him and stalked out of the alcove.

He was not sure why, but her threat resonated so much, what he felt verged on panicked terror. He hastily pushed himself off the wall and started to chase after her. Just as he emerged from the alcove, he nearly smacked into Amelia, who was walking by on Gourry's arm. He saw Lina storming out to one of the verandahs that led to one of the palace's interior gardens, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

His relief was short lived. When he started to apologize to Amelia for nearly running her down, she dismissed it airily without really looking at him, and continued walking with Gourry.

Away from him.

No. He would not let her!

* * *

Gourry watched the developing confrontation between Amelia and Zel, not trusting himself to say anything. He had seen the marks on Lina's shoulders and back: marks that had not been there before she went into that alcove with Zelgadis. The fact that she seemed fine, aside from being pissed beyond belief, did little to ease his temper. It was taking all his self-control to stop himself from challenging Zelgadis right here and now. He kept telling himself that he had no real idea what had occurred in that alcove, since it seemed that despite her anger, Lina had taken steps to keep whatever went on between them private. It was possible that there was some other explanation for why it looked like someone had attacked her.

He wanted to go after her, more than anything else. Especially when he noticed the dancer who had been sniffing around her all evening follow her out onto the verandah.

Instead, he waited until he could slip away from Zel and Amelia without them noticing, and intercepted a servant who was carrying a tray of after-dinner drinks. Gourry idly swirled the brandy in the snifter, enjoying a momentary respite from female attention. After a few moments, Phil joined him.

"Gourry," Phil said expansively. "Seems like you've been quite popular with the ladies this evening."

Gourry shrugged noncommittally, while he tracked the swirling currents that ebbed and flowed through the room. There was something there, something to follow. He let his sense expand. Phil seemed worried, probably about Amelia. There was a tang of discontent swirling around Amelia and Zelgadis. But what he was sensing did not seem to be related to that. It was an intangible threat that had nothing to do with the people in the room; a sense of hostile watching—and waiting. He sighed internally and refocused on Phil, who he realized was still talking to him.

"—a genuine concern?" Phil asked.

"What?" Gourry asked in return, knowing he sounded like an idiot.

Phil laughed. "You kids never change," he said heartily while he thumped Gourry on the back. Then he glanced across the room and watched Lina enter from a verandah on the arm of the dancer who had chased after her. "Well, at least not completely," he amended as he gripped Gourry's shoulder sympathetically.

Gourry gave Phil a sunny smile that was a bit on the vacuous side. "If you'll excuse me, Phil," he said brightly, "I think I'll go ask Lina to dance."

Without waiting for a reply, he dropped his glass on a small table and moved to intercept Lina. Almost on cue, he heard Phil shout behind him, "That's the spirit, Gourry! Don't give up! Keep fighting!"

* * *

Amelia woke feeling a bit queasy. "What have I done?" she asked nobody in particular.

Unfortunately, she knew exactly what she had done. And although she did not fully understand her reasons, the ones she did understand made her feel . . . ashamed.

She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees, and stared at the faintly glowing embers in the fireplace across the room. She had no idea why she had agreed to Jeremiah's request to court her. She barely knew the Lord of Lim. He did feel . . . familiar. As if she had known him for years. She felt comfortable in his presence, and at the same time, she did not fully trust him. She certainly did not love him.

And it was not political expediency, either. Seyruun actively pursued a policy of creating alliances with other kingdoms, but it was out of a desire to create peace, not out of any necessity. Lim was very rich, but it was also relatively small and a minor player on the political game board. She could have easily refused gracefully without any fear of reprisal.

So what had made her agree?

Was it all just a petty attempt to get back at Zelgadis? That was certainly what she had turned it into. And that was wrong. It was definitely not the way an ally of Justice should act. Even if he had hurt her.

She was afraid that she had hurt him far worse.

Amelia pressed her face against her knees, wiping the tears, and knowing that the queasy feeling had nothing to do with overindulgence and everything to do with the shameful way she had acted. It was not supposed to be like this.

_Not everything works out the way it does in the stories, Amelia._

Lina's words echoed in her mind. Amelia pushed herself out of bed and pulled on a robe. Maybe not. But she was sure of one thing: as long as she believed it, love and justice would always prevail in the end.

And she was sure of something else, too: she owed Zelgadis an apology. And an explanation.


	5. Chapter 5: Infant Moon

He was hiding, and he knew it. As soon as Phil's banquet had finished, he had stiffly escorted Amelia back to her rooms, neither of them talking or looking at each other. Then he had headed straight for the Seyruun royal library, burying himself in a random nook tucked away deep in the bowels where the oldest records were stored. He was surrounded by the dusty and somewhat musty smell of ancient parchment. A random book was open on his lap and a faint ball of light hovered at his shoulder while he stared at the words on the page without really seeing them.

He was angry. He was scared.

If not for his commitment to escort Amelia back to Lim, he would have just left. He snorted softly to himself. How stupid was that? Phil had asked him to escort Amelia back to Lim, but that had been before Amelia had agreed to let another man court her . . . . Anger flared, making him want to lash out. Instead he flipped the page in the book and stared unseeing at a new set of words.

Very faintly, he heard footfalls moving through the stacks. Coming closer. He considered snuffing out the ball of light at his shoulder, and then dismissed the idea as pointless. She already knew he was there. He felt something flare in his heart. Bitterness? Exultation? It was too . . . complex to identify.

"I thought I'd find you here," Amelia said neutrally as she rounded a corner. She was wearing a plain robe of nubby wool, and her hair was clearly sleep-mussed.

"Oh?" he replied, trying to sound bored and uncaring.

She turned to examine a bookshelf, idly running her fingers over the spines of books as if she were reading their titles. "I didn't quite expect you to be this deep in, though," she continued in the same neutral tone.

He flipped another page without offering a response. Did he want to throttle her or kiss her? He could not really tell.

"I couldn't sleep," she said after a long silence. She continued to examine the bookshelf. "I've always hated it down here. It's musty and dark. Closed in. Full of secrets, full of reminders that Seyruun wasn't always a kingdom of light or justice."

"Then why are you here?" he asked brusquely, turning another page.

Amelia turned to look at him, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. "Looking for you," she declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why?" he asked, not bothering to hide the bitterness that seeped through him.

A soft slap of a bare foot against the stone floor. A susurration of cloth against flesh as she knelt in front of him and tugged at the book on his lap. He considered fighting her for it, but something in her eyes stopped him. He saw pain. Shame. Determination.

"To tell you that I'm sorry," she said softly. He could hear the tears in her voice, see them in her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He wanted to take her into his arms, to whisper that it was okay, that he had been hurt worse before, that she did not need to cry.

Instead, he could only say one word. "Why?"

She bit her lip for a moment, staring at her hands. Then she looked him in the eyes. "I wanted to hurt you," she said with quiet determination.

He saw the truth of it in her eyes, and his anger—his fear—spiked. "Why?" he repeated through gritted teeth as he braced himself for her answer.

"Because you hurt me."

Zelgadis felt the floor drop out from under him. It was not what he expected—had braced himself—to hear. He thought she would say something about him being someone of no political consequence, someone she no longer cared for. In the depths of his heart, he had tried to convince himself that she had finally decided that he was a monster, a freak, and that was why she had turned away from his attempts to show her physical affection, why she had decided to turn towards another man. He thought she would say something that would make it easy to hate her, even if he hated himself for wanting to hate her.

"How, exactly, did I hurt you?" he asked slowly, evenly.

"Don't you know?" she demanded in frustration, launching herself to her feet. "Don't you know how I feel when you touch me? When you kiss me? My heart wants to sing, but your heart won't."

"Sing?" he echoed uncertainly, feeling like he had lost the thread of the conversation. What did she mean? Okay, he knew what she meant about her heart wanting to sing, he had been her companion for years after all. But what did she mean about his heart?

"You know what I mean," she said, stamping her foot angrily. "You touch me like I'm a thing, like I'm one of your carvings!" she accused. "I might as well be made out of wood or stone for all you seem to feel!"

"I can't feel!" The words burst out of him. "I am made out of stone, and stone can't feel," he said bitterly. "Why do you think I want my normal body back so badly?" he demanded.

Anger gave way to confusion. "I thought it was just that you didn't like the way you look," she said tentatively.

"I don't like anything about this body," he shot back. Then Lina's taunt echoed in his mind, reminding him of all the times he had been happy that Rezo had cursed him with this body. Remembering her taunts reminded him that Lina had also ordered him to tell Amelia the truth about his body.

Threatened, more like.

It was a threat with teeth. If Lina told Amelia, she would do it in a way that would make Amelia hate him.

He did not want Amelia to hate him. That was why he was hiding in the bowels of the palace archives, because he was terrified that she had finally decided to hate him, that she wanted him to leave so that she never had to see him again.

He closed his eyes, hesitating. He had kept this secret for so long, afraid that sharing it would make people—his friends turn away from him. Now, he was afraid that not sharing it would make her turn away from him, was afraid that it was already too late. After all, she had agreed to let another man court her. Involuntarily, he clenched his hands into fists.

Forcing his hands to open, he held one out to her. She looked at him, and then looked at his proffered hand. Her wariness and suspicion hurt. But finally, she sighed and placed her hand in his. He gently closed his fingers, exerting slight pressure. "What do you feel?" he asked simply.

Amelia sighed again. "I feel the strength of your hand surrounding mine," she replied. "It feels smooth and lumpy. Yielding, but unyielding."

"I know there's something in my hand that's preventing me from closing it all the way. I know that it's not as hard as mine, and that if I wanted to, I could close my hand into a fist and crush whatever is in it to a pulp." He looked into her eyes, gently tightening his grip when she tried to pull away. "I'm made of stone, Amelia," he repeated. "Stone can't feel. Not the way a human body can."

Hesitantly, she placed her free hand against his face, lightly stroking his cheek, then his lips. "You can't feel this?" she asked softly.

He shook his head once in negation. "I know something soft is touching my face. All I get is the information. That's all."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked as she pulled her hands away. He could hear the frustration, the silent accusation. Which had hurt her more? The fact that he had kept this secret for so long, or the fact that his body did not thrill to her touch?

Zelgadis took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I didn't tell you," he said, placing both hands in his lap while maintaining eye contact with her, "because I didn't want you to know that I can't be your lover."

Amelia flinched. "Because you can't feel?" she asked, her voice so carefully neutral.

"Because I can't feel," he agreed, "and because . . ." he trailed off, not sure how to say it, not sure how to admit that he only identified as masculine because he had been male as a human. "Because this body is rock golem and brow demon, and neither has gender or sex," he finally said.

Her brow furrowed, and he could see her struggling with the idea, could see the moment understanding dawned, as well as a realization that obviously took her by surprise. "So that's why," she said softly as she looked down at her feet.

"Amelia?" he asked, not sure what she meant.

"That's why you always left after . . . I thought you would this time, too . . ." She stared at the floor for several moments. When she finally looked at him, her eyes were bright with tears, but she was smiling. "You can't be my lover, but you want to," she declared. "That's why you've been even more driven to find your cure recently."

As many times as he had considered telling her the truth, he had rejected it out of hand, thinking that, at best, she would pity him. At worst, he would never see her again. He had never imagined that she would be happy. But after considering for a moment, he knew he should have.

"Will you let me help you?" she asked, looking both hopeful and vulnerable.

He thought of pointing out that she had agreed to allow another man to court her. He thought about saying that it was hardly appropriate for them to be spending time together under those circumstances. While true, saying these things would hurt her and perhaps shatter any hope of anything ever developing between them.

So he ignored the political reality and gave her the answer she wanted, because he did not want to shatter that hope. "Yes," he said simply.

Her smile was radiant, and she threw her arms around him, pressing herself against him as she hugged him with all her might. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

_No, Amelia_, he thought as he held her in his arms. _Thank you._

* * *

Gourry woke abruptly. Instinctively he reached for Lina to quiet her and comfort her. As his hand quested across satin sheets and found nothing, he sat up in panic. It took a moment for him to remember that they were in Seyruun and that she had separate quarters.

Still feeling uneasy, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, noting, but not really noticing, the cold of the stone floor seeping through the thick knotted rug that lay under his bed. It was still dark outside, but he could hear a cacophony of birds chirping, a sure sign that dawn was close.

He pushed himself up and padded across the floor, heading unerringly for the wall that separated his room from Lina's and ignoring the bite of chilled air against his naked skin. He could hear nothing from behind the wall, nothing to indicate that she was in distress.

He knew that she was.

It would be so easy to carve a hole in the wall, to be with her and comfort her. It was what he wanted to do.

With a silent sigh, he turned away from the wall, forcing his hands to unclench themselves. It was all about control. He had controlled himself all those years, he could do it for a few days more. And he owed it to Lina to tell her that he was not going to be able to control himself much longer. Phil's party had made that painfully clear. He wanted their relationship out in the open. Oh, he understood Lina's reasons for keeping things quiet. But every time he played the fool, or flirted with another woman instead of with her, something in him died a little. And keeping this secret had not stopped her nightmares. In fact, he found himself wondering more and more often if keeping the secret was the cause of the nightmares.

He sighed again as he slipped on his pants, figuring that he might as well start his day. He doubted that he would be able to get back to sleep at this point, and he still wanted to try to find a sword for Lina, even though nothing he had seen so far seemed to fit. It might be better to get something custom made, but if their wares were any indication of their skill, none of the blacksmiths were up to the challenge. It was not so much that they lacked skill; it was just there was something missing. He was not sure exactly what it was, but it was definitely missing.

Without really thinking about it, he picked up the round mirror he had found last time Lina had decided to go bandit hunting: the one that was coated with black enamel that slowly turned gold as the mirror opened. He had been carrying it ever since, although he could not really explain why. It felt right to carry it, the same way it felt right to carry a sword or wear armor. As he reflexively slipped it into his pocket, his hand suddenly stopped and he pulled it back out, examining it closely.

When closed, the mirror was smooth black enamel. It had been that way since he had found it a few days before they had helped with the festival. Now, there was a small sliver of gold on the right side of the circle.

A waxing crescent.

He had no idea where the thought came from, but as soon as it occurred to him, it felt completely right. It was the wrong time of day to check, but he had a feeling that if he compared the mirror with the moon, he would find they were an exact match.

Strange, though. He had never noticed it changing before, except when he opened or closed it. He closed his hand in a loose fist, feeling the comforting weight of enameled metal warmed by his body heat. Then he slipped the mirror into his pocket. Maybe he would ask Lina about it later.

* * *

_You, who desire destruction, you shall be destroyed as you desire._

Lina stared at her bedroom in dismay and tried control the panic that threaten to transform into hysteria. Millions of tiny white feathers covered the room like a white snow. Some still floated on random air currents. Peeking through the fluffy white coating, she could see the wreckage of her bed: the wooden frame had been reduced to kindling and dust. Sheets and bedding had been ripped to shreds.

She swallowed hard. White feathers instead of wool. Broken wood, not charred bones. The red was her sheets, damn it, not blood.

Abruptly, she pushed herself out of the corner where she was huddled and rushed into her bathroom, trying to hold back the urge to retch, and making it just in time as half-digested nibbles from the night before made a hasty exit. The nausea and vomiting were becoming all-to-common occurrences, she thought as she wiped her face weakly with the back of her hand, not seeing the broken nails, the assorted scratches, or the fresh bruises that covered her arms.

Until she looked at herself in the mirror.

Had she torn up her bed with her bare hands? Judging by the contusions and abrasions, it certainly seemed that way. She sighed, feeling bruised and battered, both physically and mentally. At least she had locked herself in and shielded the room. If she had done that to the bed, what would she have done to anyone foolish enough to try to help her—or stop her?

She knew what she would have done, and no one could have stopped her from duplicating the carnage she saw in her nightmares.

No one, except for Gourry.

'Creation itself requires a balance.' She repeated the words in her head, almost like a mantra, as she cleaned herself up, barely even noticing the sting of soap and water in assorted cuts and scrapes. Repeating the phrase was both comforting and terrifying. There were so many ways to think about balance: good and evil, gods and monsters, black and gold, order and chaos.

But if creation itself required a balance, there was only one thing that stood opposite creation: destruction. And she, Lina Inverse, walked the path of destruction.

In the middle of pulling a simple moss-green dress over her head, she stared at her hands, now smooth, since she had healed them after washing up. Several thoughts careened through her head, clamoring for her attention. She let the dress drop into place, and then she turned to face her bedroom, deliberately putting thoughts of destruction out of her mind to follow the wisp of an idea. An idea that replaced destruction with possibilities.

A tiny white feather. A shard of crimson fabric. A sliver of wood. She pushed carefully through the debris looking for one more thing . . . . Ah. There. A brass nail.

She looked at the objects in her hand, and for the first time in weeks, she felt a tiny glimmer of hope. Moving decisively, she slipped the fragments of debris—of destruction—into a small sack and released the shield that surrounded her bedroom. She opened the door just enough to let her slip into the more public part of her suite. Then she carefully restored the power that would keep everyone out. She was not quite ready to explain the damage. She would just have to tell Ailith that she did not want anyone going in there.

She had barely finished the thought when Ailith bustled in. "You're up early," she observed with a smile. "Sir Gabriev stopped by a while ago. He said to remind you that you're supposed to spar today."

"Sir Gabriev?" Lina echoed, wondering at the new honorific. Ailith—most of the servants, for that matter—always referred to him as 'Master Gabriev.' "Did something happen that I should know about?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip.

Ailith blushed. Lina's eyes narrowed. "Well . . ." she said slowly. "It's just . . ."

"It's just what?" Lina prompted in a voice that was edgy and impatient. She wanted to get to the library so she could fully explore her idea about destruction and creation. And she was not fully certain that she could stand by impassively while her maid acted like a young girl foolishly enamored of a man . . . who just happened to be Lina's lover. A fact that she was trying to keep secret, she reminded herself forcefully. She just had to remember that Ailith crushing on Gourry was a good thing, and that she was encouraging Gourry to flirt with the maids.

"We've never noticed, you know," Ailith said in a rush. "He's tall and gorgeous, of course we all noticed that, right?"

Lina found herself nodding along, while internally she found herself oscillating between jealousy and relief that their plan was working.

"But it's like he's lit up inside or something. We just keep wondering—"

"Wait," Lina interrupted, as jealousy spiked. "Who exactly is this 'we'?" She wanted—needed—to know if this was just Ailith or . . .

"Most of the women in the palace, apparently," Ailith confided, blushing again.

"And what exactly is it that all the women in the palace are wondering?" Lina asked slowly, striving to keep an even tone while part of her insisted that she eliminate all rivals and the other part insisted that she do everything in her power to encourage the sudden flurry of female interest in Gourry.

"We're wondering," Ailith lowered her voice and looked around conspiratorially, although they were the only ones in the room, "if his skill with swords extends to the bedroom."

"Oh?" Lina asked blandly, although relief was gaining a perceptible edge over jealousy. Either Ailith was fishing for information: testing her reaction to other women blatantly expressing their lust for her protector, or their antics at the ball last night had finally dispelled the rumors that always swirled around her and Gourry. It was in her best interests to encourage the situation. Within limits.

"Apparently, the Marquessa of Darionay is offering a reward for information," Ailith continued. "According to the gossip, she's got her sights set on Sir Gabriev. In fact, she's the one who started the story that he's a knight errant, hiding his true identity for the sake of a quest."

"Hence the 'sir,' " Lina murmured. Relief had transformed into glee the instant Ailith had mentioned that magic word, 'reward.' "And people are buying that?"

Ailith shrugged delicately and made a moue, but offered no additional comment.

"Any bets yet?" she asked as her thoughts whirled. There were so many ways she could come out ahead from this development. The opportunity to line her purse while adding fodder for the palace gossip just made it all the sweeter, a thought which made the jealous part of her pout, but it was a feeling with no real pull.

"Now, it would hardly be fair to let you place bets," Ailith replied firmly, but there was mischievous twinkle in her eye, "given how well you know Sir Gabriev. And part of the reward the Marquessa is offering is specifically for information about your relationship with him!"

"Is that so," Lina commented as she tried to hide her chagrin. Apparently palace gossip still had room to speculate about her and Gourry. How best to put an end to that? Ah . . . . "I might just have some information for the Marquessa," she said with a wink, knowing that particular statement would have the gossips worked into a flurry within moments of her leaving the room. "If anyone comes looking for me, I'll be in the library!"

Ailith dropped a perfunctory curtsey as Lina turned to go. She had the door to her suite halfway opened when she heard Ailith try to open the door to her bedroom. "Don't bother cleaning in there," she said, striving for nonchalance in her tone. It might have been easier to achieve if she had not suddenly had a very vivid image of herself standing in the midst of carnage and screaming a challenge to the heavens, an image that utterly banished petty thoughts of jealousy or glee. She swept out of the room, hoping the action masked the shudder she had not been able to suppress.

As she allowed her feet to carry her along the familiar path to the library, she clutched at the small sack—feeling the wooden sliver and brass nail—with all the desperation of someone drowning who clung to the rope they hoped would guide them to shore.

By the time she actually reached the library, she felt as if she had achieved a measure of balance. In some way that she could not quite define, she felt safe here, in a room that was built over layers and layers of secrets and knowledge. She was just one tiny addition, one secret hidden among the rest, hidden under the façade of solid and reliable familiarity: the shelves that reached to the lofty ceilings, filled with deluxe manuscripts; the heavy mahogany furniture that was comfortably worn; the bins of scrap parchment and stacks of wax tablets visitors could use to jot notes during their studies.

With a sigh of contentment, she claimed "her" table, the big one in the middle of the room, and carefully placed each of the four fragments of debris in front of her, organizing them into a square on a whim.

And then she lost herself to the seductive power of swirling of ideas and associations, following thoughts where they led, neither aware nor caring that her focus had narrowed so far that her awareness began and ended in her mind. She was too engrossed in creating a world view that blended everything she had ever been taught with an idea randomly mentioned in a book she had only encountered by chance.

"I should've known," Gourry groaned in a mournful voice that threatened to shatter her concentration, "that I'd find you in the library."

Lina just barely heard him, sparing him a quick glance that was one part greeting and one part a warning not to interrupt.

Was it just a moment later? Or a much longer span of time? The sound of a door opening and closing, accompanied by girlish chatter punctuated by Gourry's deeper voice made her lean back in her chair and take stock. Apparently she had been working for half the day, if the nature of the light and the rumbling of her stomach were any indication. As she surveyed the product of her efforts, a satisfied smile bloomed on her lips. It was a good start. Oh, there were still kinks to work out of the theory, but sometimes she even impressed herself.

The aroma of stew and freshly baked bread interrupted her self-congratulations, and her focus shifted to Gourry and the two kitchen maids who were setting up a small table with a simple meal. The two maids were flirting outrageously, and Gourry was playing right along, smiling with his typical slightly clueless sunny smile.

"Wow, thanks for bringing me food!" Lina declared as hunger took over and she descended on the food, grabbing a roll and cramming it into her mouth.

"Sure thing," Gourry answered. "I figured you'd be getting hungry. I know I'm starving!" he said with a grin as he flopped into one of the chairs. "Thanks for helping," he said to the serving girls.

"Our pleasure," they chorused.

"We'll see you later, right?" one of them asked with a nervous giggle that brought on a surge of possessive anger that was quickly followed by a musing thought about how much money she could potentially make on bets and judiciously selling information.

"Of course!" Gourry responded easily. "I did promise, after all. I'll see you later this afternoon," he said as he pulled a bowl full of stew toward him.

With a lot of whispering, an occasional giggle, and a couple of furtive glances over their shoulders, the two girls left the room. Gourry seemed oblivious as he tucked into his food and eyed hers in a way that made her forget inner arguments and launch a pre-emptive attack.

Once their meal was happily devoured, Lina sat back in her chair and watched Gourry pick at his teeth while he stared at nothing. After a moment, he turned his full attention on her. It was a bit disconcerting how quickly he went from seeming like a vacuous airhead to being so intense. She knew now that a lot of his seeming cluelessness had more to do with how he could expand his focus.

Over the course of the morning, she had thought a lot about Gourry while developing her new theory: he was gold, order, and chaos. He was air, which was kind of funny, considering how much he hated flying and levitating. He fell under the heading of the gods because he was so good, because he was the Swordsman of Light.

He smiled at her, as if he sensed her thoughts. It was an open, easy smile that said nothing and everything. "So, ready to spar?" he asked casually.

Lina returned his smile. "Sure," she said as she stretched, trying to pop out a stubborn kink in her back. "It'll do me some good after sitting so long."

* * *

Amelia struggled to maintain her focus, trying to ignore the sweat trickling down her temples, knowing she was gritting her teeth in the effort to sustain a spell that was meant to be instantaneous. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done. Such a simple spell, really, one she could practically do in her sleep. But maintaining it . . . it felt like she was trying to continuously exhale without ever having the opportunity to take a fresh breath. Somehow she had to find the energy to channel without having that instant to gasp and regroup.

On top of that, random thoughts kept trying to distract her. The spell was so simple, normally she could cast it without effort or thought, and that frame of mind kept trying to intrude. The truth was that she did need to focus, because sustaining the spell required a slight variation in addition to the sustained effort. But convincing herself of that fact seemed to be increasingly difficult. Her thoughts kept trying to wander: back to the conversation she had with her father that morning, random thoughts about Zelgadis that she wanted to pursue . . . and a terrible worry that Lina had finally snapped in a way that would be impossible to fix.

Which reminded her why it was so incredibly important to focus and maintain the energy for this spell.

"Okay, you can let it go, now," Zelgadis finally announced.

Amelia felt her entire body sag in relief as she finally stopped pouring energy into her quickly modified flow break, and she gave herself a moment to catch her breath before asking, "Can you break it?"

The "it" in question was the spell Lina had put around the private part of her suite, effectively locking everyone out. Amelia had to squelch another pang of guilt at the thought of trying to break into her friend's privacy. Part of her hoped Zelgadis would not have an affirmative answer, because she was truly afraid of what they might find in Lina's room.

Zander had missed his morning appointment with her father, who had asked her to look into the situation. Some discrete inquiries revealed that the last time anyone had seen the ambassador from Lim was after the party last night when he had escorted Lina back to her room, much to the envy of practically every other single man who had been there. Lina did not typically lock her quarters, not with magic that seemed to completely surround the room on all six sides, and Ailith had mentioned that it had seemed like Lina had been bothered by something when she had instructed her maid to not enter those rooms.

Zelgadis let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a snarl. "I don't know," he growled, banging his fist against the door in obvious frustration. "I think I have a sense of how she did it, but I'm not completely sure. I can follow the threads of the lock spell, and it seems like she may have also employed some elemental—stone, unless I miss my guess—but there also seems to be an element of chaos magic twined through the spell. And Lina is the only living person I know of who understands chaos magic." He banged his fist against the door again. "I'm sorry, Amelia," he said softly.

Amelia reached out and took his fist, gently uncurling his fingers. "No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "I knew it was a long shot."

Before he could answer, the door slammed open, and Lina entered with Gourry at her side. She stopped mid-sentence and her eyes narrowed as she examined Amelia and Zelgadis, noting everything.

"Amelia, Zel. What are you doing here?" Lina asked the question in a light tone, but Amelia could sense the suspicion underneath, felt Lina assessing her, not as a friend, but as a potential enemy.

"Miss Lina!" Amelia gushed, as if nothing were wrong, as if she did not sense Lina's incipient hostility. She dropped Zelgadis's hand and rushed over to grab Lina's. "There you are! I've been wanting to talk to you all day!" she declared as she led Lina to an overstuffed leather settee positioned by the fire.

"Amelia?" Lina asked, her tone now colored more with affection and curiosity.

"I talked to Daddy this morning," she answered as she sat down next to Lina, smiling, but trying not to show her relief. Each time Lina had turned on her, it was as if she was seeing a stranger instead of a friend. Amelia had hoped that if she was able to make Lina recognize her, remind her that they were close friends, she could head off another attack. She glanced over at Zelgadis and Gourry. Zelgadis leaned casually enough against the mantle surrounding the fireplace, but it did not hide the fact that he was studying Lina intently, and she also caught his eyes flick toward Gourry. Gourry wore his best clueless look, but after looking at Lina and shrugging, he took a seat on an ottoman that matched the settee.

"And?" Lina prompted impatiently while Amelia waited for everyone to make themselves comfortable.

"What do you remember about Eshar?" she asked slowly, looking at each of her friends.

Lina's brow furrowed and her eyes took on a distant look. Zelgadis looked confused. Gourry looked just as airheaded as ever . . . except that he also seemed like he was paying more attention to the conversation than he usually would.

"All I remember," Amelia volunteered after the silence stretched out, "is that we were there for some sort of festival." She glanced surreptitiously at Zelgadis. She remembered a bit more than that: she remembered waking up in his arms and feeling very happy. "But I couldn't tell you what kind of festival it was, or even how long we were there."

"I remember that we were asked to help with something," Zelgadis offered hesitantly. Amelia caught him stealing a glance at Lina that she could not quite interpret. It annoyed her for some reason—no it was more than that: she felt a flicker of half-remembered fury, but she had no idea why. Before she could sort out the feeling, Zelgadis spoke again. "And Gourry was injured, I know that for sure . . . but . . . how did it happen?" he asked quizzically, more of himself than of anyone else.

"I did that," Lina whispered softly, staring studiously at nothing on the floor.

Gourry just shrugged. "Well, I remember everything," he announced in a tone that was mostly matter-of-fact and partially baffled. In other words, it was typical Gourry, through and through.

Everyone stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he actually meant it, or if it was another one of those off-the-wall things he threw into conversations when they got serious.

"Okay, bait-for-brains," Lina said acerbically, "what do you remember?"

"They wanted you and me to help with their festival, so we did. Part of the festival involved a sword fight between you and me, and that's when I got injured." He paused for a moment. "Oh, and Zel got the crap beat out of him somehow," he added.

"Gourry," Lina said in a long-suffering tone, "that's exactly what the three of us," she gestured at herself, Amelia and Zelgadis, "just said."

"Daddy said that no one knows much about Eshar," Amelia cut in before Lina worked herself up to a harangue about Gourry's inability to follow a conversation. "No one knows exactly where the town is located. We have scattered stories and references about people questing for the place. In some of the stories, the people are never seen again. In others, they come back, but they have no clear memory of the city, how long they were there, how they found the place, or how they left."

"Just like us," Zelgadis commented.

Amelia nodded. "There's so little information, the scholars have decided that there's no such place." Which explained why she had never heard of the town before. She looked over at Zelgadis. "Daddy said the cartographers wouldn't put something on the map based on hearsay."

"Well, I know where it is," Gourry chimed in. "I even remember leaving. First that old lady talked to us, then that girl led us to the clearing where she'd found us."

Once again, Gourry was the center of silent scrutiny.

After a moment, Lina snorted. "Well, I guess you should have the Seyruun cartographers follow Gourry, then," she said sarcastically. "Problem solved!" With another snort, she turned her attention back to Amelia. "What does Phil think?"

"Oh, Daddy knows it's a real place," Amelia responded.

Lina's eyes bored into her. "And . . . ?" she pushed after a moment. When Amelia did not respond right away, she jumped up from the settee and started pacing while ticking points off on her hand. "So it's a place that officially doesn't exist, is not on any of the maps, but is known to the royal family." She stopped in the center of the room and stared at Amelia again. "But only the crown prince . . ." She smiled then. "Okay, Amelia, spill the rest of it," she commanded with a good-natured smile that did little to counteract her peremptory tone.

Amelia grinned in response, feeling like it had been too long since she had seen this side—the more "normal Lina" mode—of her friend. "Well," she said slowly, drawing out the word, "you're right about only Daddy knowing. I mean, I assume Grandfather knows as well. It's not exactly a secret. It's more like Eshar has 'need-to-know' status. Daddy said that this is the condition negotiated every time a representative from Eshar comes to the capital."

"And how often is that?" Lina asked.

"Every time there's a new high priest or priestess of Ciephied," Amelia responded seriously. "Someone claiming to be from Eshar always shows up and meets with the royal family to renew the standing agreement: in exchange for allowing them to remain hidden, someone from Eshar trains the new high priest or priestess in the highest levels of Dream Walking." Amelia did not share the information that the representative also showed up with considerable amounts of cash that were offered as gifts to the royal family, with the stipulation that the income _not_ be used for anything except supporting the royal family.

Lina went very still, her eyes staring at nothing.

"Dream Walking?" Zelgadis echoed in a tone that was clearly a request for more information.

"It's a method to control dreams," Lina said slowly, still staring at nothing.

Zelgadis glanced at Amelia and she nodded, confirming Lina's description. Zelgadis studied Lina for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed. "Whose dreams are you trying to control?" he demanded brusquely. Amelia thought there was a hint of accusation in his tone, and once again, she felt that hint of barely remembered fury.

"Mine," Lina shot back. "Got a problem with that?" she demanded stiffly.

"No," Zelgadis answered. "No problem at all." His abrupt capitulation only served to intensify the hint of fury enough to almost resolve into a memory.

"Good," Lina said with a hard edge to her tone. She took a deep breath and turned back to Amelia. "Did you talk to the high priest yet?" she asked, striving to sound calm.

It took effort, but Amelia dragged her thoughts away from trying to remember why seeing Zelgadis give in to Lina made her think she should be angry. After a brief hesitation to place Lina's question into the context of the current conversation, she nodded. "He said he'll see you this evening, right after dinner," she said.

Lina sighed inaudibly. "Thanks, Amelia," she said as she reached out to squeeze Amelia's hand. "Really."

Amelia returned the pressure with a smile, happy that she could do at least this much to help. She just hoped that it would turn out to help. She had the strangest feeling . . .

Before the thought fully formed, Ailith entered the room. "Your father is looking for you," she announced.

It was Amelia's turn to sigh inaudibly. "I should be free by dinner time," she said to all her friends, although her gaze lingered on Zelgadis. "See you then?"

"Sure thing," Lina said easily, waving her off. "Go do your princessy things, and we'll see you for dinner. Just make sure there's plenty of food!"

Amelia laughed at the familiar demand. "Of course," she agreed. "We wouldn't dare do less than set a full table for you, Miss Lina!"

* * *

"You told her." Lina pounced gleefully on him the moment the door closed behind Amelia.

"Told who what?" Gourry asked before Zelgadis could decide how he wanted to respond, especially since he was still trying to figure out why Lina's desire to learn this Dream Walking technique made him so edgy, and why his first instinct was to back down when she snapped at him. It was like trying to recall a half-remembered dream: the details just refused to come into focus, leaving him with a vague sense of unease.

"Zelgadis finally told Amelia how he feels about her, yogurt-brains," Lina announced caustically, as she whirled on Gourry.

That got Zelgadis's full attention. He was pretty sure that Gourry had figured him out, but he wondered if Lina realized that. He also wondered how she would answer Gourry.

"Oh," Gourry replied. "Good," he added a moment later.

Zelgadis suppressed a sigh. He should have known better. He really should have.

He was still trying to decide if he should tell Lina to mind her own business or just come clean when Ailith poked her head in the room once again. "There's some women looking for Sir Gabriev," she announced.

"Oh yeah," Gourry replied, smacking his fist against his open palm. "I offered to give them some pointers this afternoon."

Zelgadis studied Lina while she watched Gourry leave the room. "You know all the ladies in the palace are sniffing after him," he commented blandly, hoping to elicit some reaction.

"I know," she replied dismissively, although her eyes sparked with the type of glee that was typically reserved for bandits and buffets. "Never mind that," she said excitedly. "C'mon, I have something I want to show you."

They walked to the library in a comfortable silence, and she led him to the worn mahogany table she favored. It was littered with scraps of parchment crammed with her cramped merchant script.

"What a mess," he commented as she rifled through the untidy piles, wondering how long it had taken her to produce all of it.

She smacked at his hand as he reached to pick up a random piece of parchment. "Not that one," she said quickly. "I want you to look at this one." She brandished a folio-sized piece that featured a large annotated diagram.

Zelgadis took it from her hands, quickly scanning it. "Where'd you find this?" he asked as he tried to make sense of the figures and captions.

"I didn't find it. I made it," she responded a bit impatiently. "What do you think?"

It looked like a modified Plane Chart, incorporating all the familiar elements, but it was organized in a way that threw conventional wisdom out the window. In the center was a large pentagon drawn within a square. The square was marked with the rune for "black" while the pentagon was marked with the rune for "gold." There were four large circles arrayed around the square, each marked with an elemental rune. The circles were each divided into a teardrop-shaped half. In each circle, one of the halves was slightly shaded, while the other half was unshaded. On two of the circles, the unshaded half contained a tiny pentacle and the shaded half contained a tiny cross. The pattern was reversed on the other two circles.

"You don't have a hexagram," he pointed out after studying the chart intently.

"No," Lina said excitedly. "I considered putting it in the center of the square, but it didn't seem to fit properly."

Zelgadis found himself nodding along, although he was not sure why. "What made you draw the Demon Kings like this?" he asked, indicated the circles.

Something glinted in Lina's eyes. "They're not the Demon Kings," she said. "At least not entirely. The shaded part is the Demon King, while the blank part is the God."

Zelgadis considered that for a moment. "That makes sense, I suppose," he conceded. "Dark for the evil and light for the good."

"That's one way to think about it," Lina responded with enthusiasm, "but I was also thinking about one being filled and the other empty: the Demon Kings who are filled with passion for destruction, while the Gods seem to exist purely to block the Demon Kings. They don't really seem interested and active in the world." She gave him a look that he could not quite decipher. "Well, what do you think?" she asked eagerly. "I can't decide if this should be based on fours and fives, or one, fours and fives."

Zelgadis studied the chart again, intrigued despite himself. "And twos," he pointed out, tapping on the divided circles.

Lina's eyes unfocused for a moment as she considered. "Is it a two, a one, or a part of the four?" she finally asked. "If you think about it a bit, I think the first option is a distraction."

"What do you mean," Zelgadis asked.

"Well," she said slowly, "we tend to think of the Gods and Demons in opposition, but why is it that our world is under Ruby Eye and the Flare Dragon? Are they really in opposition? And how is it that the Flare Dragon can create an Aqualord, Earthlord, Firelord, and Airlord?"

"Everyone knows that the fight between Ruby Eye and the Flare Dragon is a crucial part of our world."

"And yet that fight defines our world, rather than destroying it," she pointed out.

"That's because of the strength of the Flare Dragon," he countered.

"That's what we're taught," she returned. "But even people who love each other fight: siblings fight all the time. Parents fight with their children. Lovers fight with each other. You don't have to hate someone to fight with them."

Zelgadis studied the chart again, while he tried to assimilate a new way of looking at the world. "Why do you have chaos penetrating these three circles?" he asked.

"I was trying to preserve balance," she said slowly, but he could hear the hint of frustration. "That was the only way I could keep a common center and a consistent unit of measure."

"Because creation itself requires a balance?" he asked excitedly as the thought occurred to him. "Why '_a_' balance?" he emphasized the indefinite article as he studied her chart. "Why not just say 'creation itself requires balance'? 'A balance' implies that there is more than one, that any balance will do."

He could feel her eyes boring into him as he considered this idea.

"Go on," she said after a moment.

"Well," he said slowly, struggling to articulate the tangle of his thoughts. "Look at how many points of balance you have: fire and water; dry and wet; gods and demons."

"But they're not in perfect balance," Lina pointed out just as slowly. "Four agents of the Flare Dragon to the five agents of Ruby Eye."

"But they don't have to be in perfect balance," he countered. "Think about it," he said, cutting her off when she sucked in air to argue. "You're thinking about the word 'require' like it's a legal contract."

"That's because—" she started to say.

"I know merchants think in terms of contracts," he said testily, talking over her to get her attention. "But 'require' also means 'to need.' And the root word comes from 'quaero,' the word the ancients used for 'to seek' and 'to question.' " He was very familiar with the nuances of this particular ancient word. "It's also the root of our word 'quest,' " he said softly.

She was quiet for a few moments. "Creation itself longs for a balance?" she finally suggested.

"Yes!" Zelgadis exclaimed. It felt right, for some reason. "It longs for a balance, any balance. And it must long for a balance because it's not there . . . at least not always . . ." He trailed off, studying her chart again. For some reason, the elements seemed right, but he had this nagging feeling that they were not put together correctly.

"Balance." Lina said abruptly, interrupting his thoughts.

"What about it?" he asked as he rooted about for a clean scrap of parchment. He needed to put his ideas into a visual form . . .

"Just thinking that I can make scales balance without having the same amount on both sides, just by adjusting the fulcrum point," she said in a bemused tone, handing him a clean piece of parchment and a carbon stick.

"Thanks," he said as he started sketching, ignoring the fact that she was staring over his shoulder. He started with a large black square. Using the same center point, he drew a pentagon within the square. Then, again using the same center point, he drew four circles that were mostly, but not entirely, in the pentagon. Using Lina's scheme, he divided the circles with a curved line that created two teardrop shapes, shading the parts that were closest to the center point.

He compared his quick sketch to her chart and nodded to himself. "Black and gold, order and chaos," he said with satisfaction as he handed it to Lina.

She studied it intently, her brow furrowed in concentration. "It works," she finally said. "Better than mine, I think," she added grudgingly.

"You had all the right components," he pointed out, giving credit where credit was due.

"Except I reversed the square and the pentagon," she replied, her voice thick with chagrin. "You'd think I'd know better. It's the Lord of Nightmares who shines like gold on the Sea of Chaos."

"The Mother of All Creation," Zel said, stunned as he considered the implications, "must be a blend. She is the source of the dreams that terrify, but she must also be the mother of the Gods."

Lina stared at him. "Why didn't we ever think of that before?" she asked in shock. "I need to talk to Sylphiel," she declared abruptly as she gave him back his sketch.

"Why?" he asked, confused at her sudden announcement.

"Because Sylphiel told me that the Gigaslave could destroy all creation, simply because it calls on the Lord of Nightmares. But if the Lord of Nightmares is also the Mother of All Creation . . ." she trailed off staring intently at nothing.

Zelgadis started adding the symbols for the gods and monsters to his sketch, but then stopped, focusing on a detail he had noted, but not really thought about. "This here," he said as he tapped his finger against the circle marked with the element of fire. "This represents Ruby Eye and the Flare Dragon?"

"Yeah," she said, although she seemed more distracted by her own thoughts.

"And this one is Darkstar and Vorfeed?" he asked, tapping his finger against the circle marked with the element of earth.

"Uh huh," she agreed, again not really paying attention.

"Then why did you put the monsters in Vorfeed," he asked, pointing to the pentagram in the bulb of the unshaded teardrop, "and the gods in Darkstar?"

That got her attention. "What?" she demanded.

"Look," Zelgadis said, laying her chart on the table. "On these two," he tapped the circle marked with the runes for earth and air, "the pentacle is in the light part. But in these here," he indicated the circles marked with fire and water, "the pentacle is in the dark part. Doesn't the pentacle represent the five subordinates of a Demon King?" He glanced at Lina, who was staring at the chart with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Yeah, and the cross represents the subordinates of a God," she confirmed. "Why did I do that?" she muttered under her breath. "I was thinking . . ." she trailed off. "I remember!" she suddenly announced after a moment. "I was thinking about the Sword of Light, and that made me wonder about a relationship between the shamanistic schools and Ruby Eye's subordinates. I couldn't decide which went where, so in the interest of balance . . ."

Zelgadis sank back into his chair, trying to follow her logic. "The Sword of Light," he said slowly. "Also known as Gorun Nova."

"Part of a set of five Darkstar weapons," Lina agreed. "Weapons of Light. The five weapons that come from the Demon Lord but seem to take on the characteristics of the God. When I realized that, it made me think about the fact that there are five shamanistic forces. The shamanistic forces feel more like they come from the Gods, don't you think?" Lina asked. "But there's no dragon king in charge of the astral. I think that would fall into Fibrizzo's realm." She raked her hands through her hair.

"The Ra Tilt," Zelgadis said shortly. Everything fit, but in ways he had never considered. The combination of new ideas with the old and familiar created something that was both foreign and yet at the same time felt right. It was rather disorienting, making him feel almost dizzy and decidedly off balance.

"What about it?" Lina asked, sounding curious.

"Well, I always thought about the shamanistic schools as more neutral. But the Chaos Words for the Ra Tilt refer to the source of all souls," he said slowly. "That would seem to support your theory linking the astral with Fibrizzo . . ." After a moment, he shook his head. "No, it would make more sense if the shamanistic schools were aspects of the Lord of Nightmares instead," he said tapping the pentagon on his chart.

Lina sighed. "Okay, let's think about this. There's white magic, black magic, shamanistic magic, holy magic, and chaos magic."

"That's five," he agreed, "although some would say that there are only three: white, black, and shamanistic."

She gave him a slashing look of annoyance. "Five," she said definitively. "And shamanistic magic can take on the element of fire, water, earth, air, or spirit."

"Which is also five," he replied equably.

"Five," she agreed. "Which doesn't balance."

"Unless you think of four in one," Zelgadis said, as the idea occurred to him.

"What do you mean?"

"What if spirit is actually a blend of fire, water, earth, and air?" he proposed.

Lina blinked. "Like a bed," she murmured under her breath as she started rooting through the scraps of parchment scattered on the desk.

Zelgadis was not sure what she meant, although he was sure she had not intended him to hear. What took him completely by surprise was the fact that her words kicked his imagination into overdrive, and he was suddenly picturing her wearing practically nothing and inviting him to join her on a sumptuous divan. He swallowed hard, wondering what was wrong with him. It was Amelia he wanted to desire, not Lina.

Desire, longing. Two becomes one . . .

"The twos aren't a distraction," he announced suddenly. "The way you've drawn the gods and demons, it's like they're two trying to become one. In this system, you have the fours that become one, and the twos that become one. I wonder . . ." He paused to consider, then pushed on. "If we go back to your earlier thought that the shamanistic forces feel like the gods, maybe they do balance: four aspects of shamanism to the four Dragon Lords, the fifth aspect of spirit being a blend of all four, representing Ceiphied." He paused again. "And like the gods, the shamanistic forces are neutral, if you think of 'uninvolved' as neutral."

"Blends," she whispered. "Creation. Destruction. Balance." She took a deep breath. "Why do you suppose most of the magic we use is for destruction?" she asked tentatively.

For the first time that afternoon, Zelgadis really looked at her, and actually processed what he was seeing. Oh, not so much the physical, like the fact that she was dressed in a modest green gown with her hair pulled back in a simple knot. He saw how deeply terrified she was, how she was trying to cover that terror with the inane, like whatever games she and Gourry were playing. He saw how fragile her control was, how moment by moment, she fought to stay calm. This moment, she seemed almost fine. The next instant, she teetered at the edge of violence.

The question was incredibly important to her. Because it was, he gave it careful consideration, thinking about their charts, what he thought he understood about the universe and their world, and what they had come up with between the two of them, based largely on ideas from a seemingly random phrase.

"Destruction?" he echoed, holding her eyes with his, gauging her reaction. "No," he said slowly as an idea took form and then suddenly crystallized. "Not destruction. Alteration." The spells they used did not really destroy. They changed things. Damage, even death, was not the same as destruction, not the same as truly erasing something from existence.

Lina opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it so abruptly, he could practically hear her jaw click. He watched the fire of excitement kindle in her eyes while the blood drained from her face. She looked like she was simultaneously thrilled and terrified, but at least she seemed more under control. "Lina?" he asked after a moment.

She shook her head abruptly, and then focused on him. "I think you're on to something," she said seriously. "It's 'change.' That's really the key, isn't it?"

It was his turn to nod in agreement. "I think it would be safe to say that 'change' is the one constant. Things are constantly in motion."

Lina's eyes flicked back and forth between her chart and his. "It's a difference of rate," she said slowly. "Patient change compared to revolution." She sighed, shook her head, and then looked him directly in the eye. "If that's true, I don't think you can get your previous body back."

Zelgadis swallowed hard. All his hopes and dreams rode on regaining his human body. If this world view they were hashing out said that was impossible—

"But," she continued, interrupting his thoughts, "it should be entirely possible to change your current body . . . to control that change . . ." she trailed off, her gaze unfocused.

Could it really be that simple? Was all that was required was that he stop looking for a "cure" that would _undo_ the changes to his body and start trying to figure out how to work with what he had? Was it a simple matter of looking forward, rather than looking behind to what was lost?

For the first time in years, he felt a glimmer of hope. All because of a random collection of words, hidden in a bestiary full of pornographic marginalia.

* * *

Lina stared at the door to the room where Beren, the current high priest of Ceiphied, had agreed to meet her. Now that she was here, she found herself full of misgivings. When she had asked Amelia to see if the high priest would train her in Dream Walking, all she could think of was the need to control her dreams, to prevent them from seeping into the waking world. In both senses. She did not want to be a danger to her surroundings. She did not want to see her dreams become reality. That was the threat implicit in the dreams. She was not sure why she thought that, but she was convinced of it, that the dreams were a threat.

The problem was that she had no real idea of who was threatening her. She had assumed it was the monsters, since they were the ones who seemed most wont to act behind the scenes to manipulate her life. That assumption had been seriously undermined by the nearly constant feel of being in enemy territory. Seyruun was the White City, the city dedicated to the Gods. The very architecture and layout of the city formed a hexagram, strengthening white magic and weakening black magic. She should have felt safe here; the nightmares should have less of an effect on her. Instead, the opposite was true.

There were only two possible explanations. Maybe there was a high-ranking monster in Seyruun, and she was reacting to its proximity. Given her prior experiences, she knew it could happen. But it was not the only explanation. The other possibility was that the nightmares came from the Gods. And if that were the case, it was absolutely insane for her to hand herself over to an agent of the Gods, to allow him into her dreams . . .

No. She shook her head forcefully and knocked purposefully on the door. The Tesha had warned her not to stray from her path. She knew that she did not remember everything that had happened in Eshar, but she remembered this warning clearly. This was the path she had chosen. She could not afford to second-guess herself. She had to move forward.

"Come," a voice said faintly from the other side of the door. A bit startled that the high priest of Ceiphied would not have a servant attending him, Lina released the latch and pushed at the heavy oak door. Despite its size and thickness, it swung open easily, revealing a small room that was lit only with charcoal braziers. A clean-shaven man of indeterminate years sat on a linen cushion in the center of the room. A smile ghosted across his lips as he met her eyes. "Close the door quickly, if you please," he said in a melodious baritone, "and slide the bolt as well."

Lina quirked an eyebrow in a silent question, but he just made shooing gestures at her. Shutting the door was easy, but her hand hesitated over the bolt. A voice in her head told her that she was being silly to worry. Gritting her teeth, she slid the bolt. As it snicked into place, she suddenly wished with all her heart that Gourry was there with her. Giving herself a mental shake, she dismissed that thought as equally silly and turned to face the priest.

"Please, sit. Be comfortable," he said, gesturing to another linen cushion that was equidistant from himself and the door.

Lina slowly lowered herself onto the cushion, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom, and noting small details: the acrid smell of charcoal smoke overlaid with a tinge of aged herbs, the ruddy glow of the heavy bronze braziers stationed at the four cardinal points, the fact that the walls, ceiling, and floor seemed to be made out of simple rough-hewn stone, and the fact that the priest was studying her carefully.

"You don't trust me," he said suddenly.

"I don't know you," Lina countered.

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Is it not enough that the princess trusts me?" he asked softly.

Lina kept her face expressionless. If it was a feint, it was a good one. Or maybe it was just blind luck. Because right now, as much as she loved Amelia and wanted her to be happy, she could not shake the feeling that Amelia was a potential enemy. Not an enemy yet, but not one to be trusted, not yet. "With all due respect Your Eminence, Amelia trusted her Uncle Randy and her cousin Alfred," Lina pointed out. She did not feel it was necessary to add that both of those two relatives had tried to kill Amelia and her father. "I believe that trust is earned, Your Eminence, and as I said, I don't know you."

"And yet you are here." Although it was phrased as a statement, Lina heard the question within.

She bared her teeth in what might have passed as a smile. "I also traveled with Xellos. We even worked together, when it suited our purposes."

"Ah," he replied. Then after a pause, "Who do you trust, then?"

Gourry. The thought was immediate. Instinctive. This time her smile was genuine, but it was the only answer she offered him.

"Shall we begin?" he asked after the silence had stretched out.

"I thought we started the moment I entered the room," Lina countered with an impish grin.

"As you say," he responded equably as he inclined his head. "I think we can both agree that we've got enough of a measure of each other to end the preliminaries and proceed."

Despite her misgivings and limited interactions, she found herself liking His Excellency Beren, High Priest of Ceiphied. Maybe it was just that she enjoyed the verbal sparring. It was not something she could really do with her friends. Gourry's skill set lay in a completely different direction; Amelia was too literal most of the time; Zelgadis had the wits, but was too sulky and self-involved for the most part. "Then what comes next?" she asked.

"Will you let me share your dream?" he asked in response.

Lina hesitated, but only for a fraction of a moment. "That's why I'm here," she replied seriously. "But I can't guarantee you'll like what you find."

* * *

Meetings, and meetings, and more meetings. Amelia sighed inside her head, although her face remained schooled in an expression of polite attention while the ambassador of Lim and the Seyruun Council faced off, each trying to wring concessions from the other. It had been going on for hours, and the fact that Amelia had missed dinner was making it harder to hold on to her patience.

At the moment, Zander was squaring off with the chubby squint-eyed Marquessa of Darionay. She had never liked that woman: she had tried just a little too hard to act like a surrogate mother after . . . . With a shake of her head, Amelia cut off that thought. She did not like the Marquessa, and the palace gossip that claimed she was trying to add Gourry to her long line of conquests did little to make Amelia feel more charitable.

She was also not happy with Zander, since the rumors of his disappearance had been rather exaggerated, which also meant that there had been absolutely no justification—or even justice—in her attempt to invade Lina's privacy. The only minor consolation was that her father had believed the rumors as well. Amelia suppressed a wince as the Marquessa voiced an objection in a rather strident piercing tone. She wanted food, a bath, and her bed, in that order. But most of all, she wanted everyone to stop assuming that her decision to allow Jeremiah to court her was tantamount to accepting a marriage proposal.

"If I may," she said, standing abruptly. Zander broke off mid-argument and turned his attention smoothly to her. The rest of the Council followed suit much more slowly, first glancing at her father, who wore an impassive expression. "These negotiations are rather premature. I will not consent to any concessions that rest upon a presumed marriage alliance at this point," she declared. "Our current focus must remain restoring the bridge over the Cylte, which connects our two kingdoms."

"It is as my daughter says," her father rumbled. She threw him a quick look of gratitude. "We will discuss these other matters at a more appropriate time." With that, he stood and offered her his arm, a clear indication that the meeting was over for the day.

They moved at a stately pace as they exited the Council chamber amidst subdued chatter. At the door to the chamber, a page handed her father a small folded note. He glanced at it, nodded at the page, and then looked down at her. "Your grandfather would like to see you," he said gently.

"Now?" Amelia blurted in surprise.

"As soon as you're available, this says." He waved the small note.

Amelia nodded slowly. Food, bath, and bed would have to wait. "I'd better go see him, then." Given a choice, she would much rather find Miss Lina and insult her breast size.

Her father ruffled her hair affectionately. "It'll be alright," he said encouragingly.

Amelia nodded again, but there was no conviction in it. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and resolutely headed for her grandfather's quarters.

Her grandfather had been old and sickly for as long as she could remember, but for the past several years, his mind had been affected. Sometimes it seemed like he was living in the past, asking about people who had been long dead. Other times—most times—he was violently agitated, shouting random words strung together that made no sense. It was very rare that he was lucid. She remembered how kind he had been when she was little. It was so hard to see him the way he was now: trapped inside a room that reeked of sickness, trapped inside a body that could barely move, trapped inside a mind that could barely touch the world . . . .

She steeled herself before entering his room, putting on a cheerful face. Unlike the last time she had visited, the room smelled as though it had been recently aired and freshened. Although the room was comfortably warm, there was a hint of crisp winter air. Her grandfather lay in bed, as usual, his eyes closed while his gnarled hands twitched spasmodically against the covers. A maid sat at his bedside, a thick book open on her lap.

"Your Highness," the maid said politely as she closed the book and stood, gesturing Amelia to take her place.

Amelia sat by the bed and gently reached for her grandfather's hand. "I'm here, Grandfather," she said softly. "It's Amelia."

Slowly, his eyes opened and he turned his head. Amelia felt the prick of tears at the sight of the milky film that covered both of his eyes. "Little Amé?" he asked, his voice weak and cracking. His fingers trembled in her hand.

"Yes, Grandfather," she said, smiling at his use of the pet name he had given her when very young. "It's me." The fact that he seemed to recognize her was a good sign. Maybe this visit would not be so bad after all.

"I like it dark," he said. "It's easier to see that way."

"Grandfather?" she asked with a sinking feeling.

"Hush," he said peremptorily. "You've been remiss, little Amé. That's why she's trying to kill you."

Amelia bit her lip and tried in vain to suppress a shudder.

Her grandfather's hands tightened around hers, no longer feeling weak. "Crying won't fix it, little Amé," he said with a gentle smile. "If you just sit and cry, he'll eat you alive."

"Wh—" she started to ask.

"Hush, I say!" her grandfather interrupted. "You've hid behind the moon and the stars and the sun," he chanted in a slight singsong. "You've hid behind the rocks and the hammer." His grip relaxed. With an obvious effort, he dragged his other hand across his body so that he held her hand between his two hands. "Light and Order," his voice rose with intensity. "They are cold and barren! Empty!" With that, he closed his eyes and turned his head away from her.

Amelia sat motionless, her heart thudding in her chest and tears streaming down her face. When his breathing smoothed out, she started to gently tug her hand away from his. To her surprise, his hand tightened, stopping her. "Promise me!" he shouted, staring straight ahead. "Promise!" he roared in command, his grip almost painfully tight, as if he had left his weak and sickened state behind.

"I promise," she gasped. "Grandfather, I promise." _Please let me go_.

"Little Amé," he said gently as his hands relaxed and released her. "Always such a good girl," he whispered. "Such a good . . ." his breath rattled noisily for a moment before settling back into a normal rhythm.

"He'll sleep now, Princess" the maid said quietly as she pulled a thin afghan up from the foot of the bed and covered his hands, tucking it up under his chin.

Amelia stared at him for a moment longer, trying to calm her racing heart, trying to calm her thoughts. Nothing he said really made sense.

But some part of her whispered that she was being willfully obtuse, and that she had understood everything perfectly.

* * *

"Beren," Philionel said as he entered his study, acknowledging the man who stood warming himself by the fire. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Not long, Your Highness," he said as he turned his back to the fire. "Thank you for meeting with me."

Phil waved dismissively at the formality as he headed for the sideboard to pour himself a drink. "I'm assuming that you've met with Miss Lina?" he commented blandly as he sank into the tatty old couch that had belonged to his wife.

Beren sighed. "Mind if I . . ." he gestured at the sideboard.

"Help yourself," Phil replied, partly amused and partly exasperated. "You know you don't have to ask."

"So you say, every time," Beren remarked as he poured himself his own drink. "She doesn't trust me," he said as he turned and leaned against the sideboard, idly swirling his drink.

Phil burst out laughing. "This is Lina Inverse we're talking about. The woman who has killed Demon Lords."

Beren said nothing, and his face remained expressionless, but Phil knew he was sulking behind the façade. As the High Priest of Ceiphied, he was used to being treated with reverence and respect: he had come to expect it as his due. It would do him good to be challenged.

"So," he said after he felt that Beren had sulked enough, "she doesn't trust you. Surely you didn't ask to meet with me just to tell me this?"

Beren looked at him over the rim of his glass for a long moment. Then he quaffed the contents and set the glass down with a loud clink. "She doesn't trust me, but she did allow me to share her dream."

Phil grunted. "Not surprising. She asked for training, and she's information hungry."

"Voracious, more like," Beren retorted as he pushed off the sideboard and started pacing in front of the fire. "I don't know how she did it. She was surprisingly well shielded for someone who has no training as a shrine maiden. I think she got more information out of me than I did from her."

"Details, Beren. I want the details."

Beren sighed. "I've never encountered anything like it in all my experience or training. It was . . ." he trailed off, staring into space for a moment. Then he shook his head. "I was able to enter her dream without much of a problem, but I was unable to see anything specific. She had erected a barrier of numbers that veiled everything in layers of symbolism. I saw a full moon swallowed by a sea of writhing blackness. Then the blackness morphed into the shape of a sword. From within the dark sword emerged a golden sword. The swords crossed, and then they twined around each other and swirled together. Eventually, the golden sword swallowed the sword of blackness, but as soon as it did, it disappeared, leaving an empty void of nothing."

"Any sense of what it means?" Phil asked, baffled.

"No, not really, beyond the obvious: the forces of dark and light seemingly in conflict. Unfortunately, the obvious just doesn't seem right." He paused and then shook his head again. "I was able to determine that the nightmares are from an external source," he said after a moment, "and possibly from more than one. But, I was not able to track the source—or sources." He sighed again. "I also got the sense that there has been tampering of some sort: whatever she hid behind the symbolism, it's terrifying her, and that terror is undermining her control."

"Control of what?" Phil asked, although he was afraid he already knew the answer.

"Of herself, her power, her sanity. Take your pick. It's all one and the same, I think." Beren responded gravely.

Phil stared at the fire, weighing Beren's words against Zelgadis's report and his own observations. He was definitely not liking how things were adding up. "What did she get from you?" he finally asked.

"The knowledge of how to enter the dreams of others," Beren admitted reluctantly.

"Do you think she understands the dangers?" he asked, his concern growing exponentially. As much as he loved and admired Lina Inverse, she was not shy about experimenting with power. The thought of an untrained, not to mention barely sane, Lina entering his dreams was enough to give him nightmares himself.

Beren radiated frustration and uncertainty. "I don't know," he responded brusquely, but with an underlying surliness that was unlike him.

"Can you help her?" Phil asked, wondering if it was even wise to ask the question. He was also starting wonder if walking Miss Lina's dream had tainted Beren somehow, which gave him a whole other set of things to worry about.

Beren shook his head in an admission of defeat. "If I could, I would send her to the Tesha. Now. This is beyond my skill set."

* * *

He was showing off. There was no doubt about it. First of all, despite the chill wintry bite in the air, he had taken off his shirt. He put enough effort into his practice routine to stay warm, not enough to do more than glow in the torchlight that illuminated the practice field. He had heard enough over the years to know that ladies might appreciate a guy's muscles, but they certainly did not appreciate the sweat that was part and parcel of working those muscles.

Second, he was indulging himself in the more showy aspect of swordplay, trading subtle finesse for flash and glamour—the kind of swordplay that belonged more on the stage of a theater than on the battlefield.

He was having the time of his life.

He had attracted an audience—that was the point, after all—predominantly female, although there were a few males as well, including the captain of Phil's guard, who knew exactly what Gourry was doing, judging from the slight disapproving frown he wore. Gourry was setting a bad example for his men, particularly the less skilled. Bad examples could get them killed. Gourry understood his concern. He had already offered to join the guard in their drills tomorrow before putting on this little show, and he was sure that the captain would do his damnedest to make him pay for this stunt. That, however, was not something he needed to think about now.

Now, his attention was split between focus on his swordplay and assessing the reactions of the female portion of the crowd. They all seemed rather breathless, and quite a few were obviously flushed. There was one who stood out in particular, one who eyed him with an avaricious look that matched Lina's when confronted by an all-you-can-eat-for-a-silver buffet.

She was clearly noble, judging from the thick brocade gown she wore, not to mention the gems flashing from fingers and ears. She seemed to be of medium height, but the words that came to mind every time he glanced at her were lush, soft, and ripe. At least, those were the words that described her figure. Overlying all of them was the sense of danger. Oh, not anything on the level of tangible threat, but something told him that she was a woman used to getting what she wanted, and that she was not a woman to be trifled with. It was pretty clear to him that what she wanted right now was him.

With a flourish of his sword, he tossed it up in the air, and deftly caught it again before sheathing it. The women—and some of the men—broke into applause, and he sketched a self-deprecating bow in response. The captain of the guard approached him, but he was neatly cut off by the lush noble woman.

"Quite the performance," she said in a voice that was higher pitched than he expected. A lower contralto would have suited her better.

He offered her his typical sunny smile, acting as if he did not notice how her eyes roved up and down his body, or how they lingered on his groin. It made him feel . . . less. Like an object, rather than a person. Of course, that show he had just put on probably had not helped.

"I'd be _very_ interested in a _private_ performance," she trilled, the tip of her tongue snaking over her lips suggestively.

Despite his best efforts, he felt his groin tighten in response, and he found himself imagining what it might be like to feel her envelop him with her lush softness. It was a natural physical response to an attractive woman who was clearly making herself available.

He felt alive in a way he had not felt in years. It was flattering. He knew he could have his choice of any of these women.

And he hated it.

He wanted none of them. The more he flirted with these women, the more he wanted to publicly court Lina.

The woman smiled, radiating a smug satisfaction, assuming that she had already made her conquest. "Perhaps we could discuss it over a late evening meal," she suggested, her slight emphasis on the last word hinting that she was not talking about food.

"Ah, Ginevra." Phil's booming voice carried easily across the yard, saving Gourry from answering.

"Philionel," she answered in a tone that managed to sound polite, despite the annoyance her body language was clearly broadcasting. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I'm looking for Gourry," Phil responded as he ran his hand over his hair, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I see," she responded, her body language shifting from annoyed to frosty. It melted, though, as soon as she turned her attention back to him. "We'll have to continue our discussion some other time, I'm afraid," she said, her tone full of regret. With a flourish of her skirts, she sauntered off toward the palace.

"Who is she?" Gourry asked, feeling both annoyed and relieved at the interruption.

"My cousin," Phil replied shortly, "and after Amelia, she's next in the line of succession." He looked at Gourry very seriously. "She can be a dangerous woman to tangle with," he warned.

"More dangerous than Lina?" Gourry asked.

Phil tensed almost imperceptibly before he relaxed a bit and smiled. "Probably not," he admitted. "She's unlikely to physically harm you, but she can certainly make your life in Seyruun . . . unpleasant." He stared off into space for a moment, his mouth hardening into a firm line.

Phil led him back to the palace and into his office, where a light evening meal awaited them. Phil gestured for Gourry to help himself as he tucked into his own plate. Even as they ate in companionable silence, Gourry wondered what this was all about. He doubted that Phil had looked for him just to give him a snack.

After a servant came in and cleared the dishes away, Phil sat back in his chair and studied Gourry for several moments. Finally he cleared his throat. "Zelgadis tells me that Miss Lina tried to attack Amelia," he finally announced.

Gourry nodded in confirmation, but said nothing in response.

"The High Priest of Ciephied tells me that something is eroding Miss Lina's sanity," he continued.

This time, Gourry did not react at all. He just returned Phil's look with polite interest, waiting for Phil to get to the point. He already knew that Lina was just barely on this side of sane, and sometimes she was on the other side. So far, he had managed to keep her mostly on this side. Not that he was going to tell Phil that.

"And Amelia tells me that you remember your visit to Eshar, and claim to know the way back."

Gourry shrugged at that point. He did remember. It was really weird that he seemed to remember everything, and no one else did. He also knew that no one really believed him. Strangely enough, Phil did, or at least, it seemed like he wanted to . . .

Phil sighed, and then changed tacks. "Palace gossip says that you're playing the field, with Miss Lina's encouragement. She actually sold information to Ginevra about your sex life."

"She did what?" Gourry blurted out, shocked at her apparent reversal of policy, and more than a bit annoyed that she had not told him first. The only reason he was even looking at other women was because she insisted they keep their relationship hidden. So what was she doing telling people about the fact that they were intimate?

"My sources also tell me that she's placed a couple of bets, some of them anonymously, on who will end up in your bed first," Phil added, his tone conveying a mix of frustration and satisfaction.

Gourry's annoyance intensified and shifted target slightly as he realized his mistake: Lina had sold information about _him_, not about them. "She's playing," he said brusquely.

"And you aren't?" Phil asked pointedly.

Of course he was. They both knew it. But Phil did not know why, and Gourry was not about to tell him. He had agreed to play, after all. And as much as he was enjoying the game in one sense, it left him feeling hollow and edgy in another sense. He did not like this schism between body and heart. Sometimes, it made him feel mean, and he liked that feeling even less.

Phil leaned forward in his chair. "Look. I don't know what you kids a playing at. Ordinarily, I would be as entertained as the rest of the palace, and would probably be placing my own bets." He paused and blew out his breath gustily.

It was clear that something was bothering Phil. His body language was broadcasting discomfort, worry, and a strong desire to protect. "You want us to stop playing?" Gourry asked, hazarding a guess at what was bothering him.

Phil sighed gustily again. "No. As much as that would make Amelia happy, you two are both adults, and you certainly have the freedom to choose who you take to your bed."

"But you do want something," Gourry pointed out the obvious.

Phil leaned back in his chair and studied him for a long moment. "Would you be willing to take Miss Lina back to Eshar?" he finally asked.

The question took him by surprise, but he did not even need to think about his answer. "Of course," he replied. He should have thought of it himself. In Eshar, they did not have to hide their relationship. In Eshar, Lina had been free of all nightmares. Added to that, the aspect of the Lord was stronger in Eshar. Gourry thought there was a good chance he could convince the Lord to help protect their child. After all, he had helped the Lord woo his Lady, so the Lord should be willing to help him.

Phil studied him a moment longer. "There's one more thing," he said quietly. He pushed his chair back and went to his desk, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a narrow black lacquer box. After running his fingers over it with a strangely tender expression on his face, he gave the box to Gourry. "Can you give this to the Tesha?" he asked simply.

Gourry took the box and gave Phil a questioning look. At Phil's nod, he opened the box. Inside, nestled against black satin lay the shattered remnants of a sword. Gourry traced the intricate wire wrap on the hilt. Even in its current state, he recognized the high quality workmanship: the thought and care that went into all the details.

"It was my wife's," Phil explained as Gourry examined the fragments. "A gift from Eshar, although I never understood why." He paused for a moment, and when he continued, his voice was bleak. "I found it like that when . . ." he trailed off, and then took a deep shuddering breath. "I always thought it should be returned, even in its current state, but the time just never felt right for some reason."

In Eshar, he would find the people skilled enough to help him forge Lina a proper sword.

Almost reluctantly, he closed the lid and fastened the hasp. "I'll keep it safe," he promised, "until I can return it to the Tesha."

* * *

Lina woke slowly. Reluctantly. The sheets were soft against her cheek, and the bed was incredibly comfortable, considering that she had reduced it to kindling.

As soon as that thought registered, Lina shot up into a sitting position and stared at her surroundings. She was in her room, in her bed. Which seemed to be whole, not scattered about in tiny fragments. And Gourry was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest as he watched her.

"Good morning," he said shortly. He did not seem happy. She could think of at least a dozen reasons why.

Maybe she was still dreaming, since the last thing she remembered was meeting with Beren. She tried pinching herself, although even as she winced, she thought it was kind of a silly test. It was not like she was incapable of feeling pain in a dream—her nightmares had demonstrated that fact quite superbly. And it was not like feeling pain in a dream would make her wake up, either.

"What are you doing?" Gourry asked.

"Trying to figure out if I'm dreaming," she replied impatiently, thinking it should be obvious. Why else did people purposefully pinch themselves?

"Why do you think you're dreaming?" He sounded puzzled, not that there was anything unusual about that.

"First of all, because I locked this room pretty tight. Zelgadis and Amelia couldn't even figure out how to get in," she responded, feeling partially smug at the fact that she had come up with a variant that was not susceptible to a Flow Break, partially furious that they had tried to get into her room, and really scared, because if she was not dreaming, she might just be completely insane.

"I broke your lock with the Blast Blade," he said quietly.

"I suppose you also fixed my bed," she challenged. It had to be dream logic. _Had_ to be. Magic was not his forte, and her door was still standing. Nor did she see any holes in the wall. It was bad enough that he was more actively countering her attack spells with his sword. The idea that he could break her passive spells . . .

"No," he said slowly as he pushed himself off the wall. "Why? What was wrong with it?"

Lina said nothing for a long moment, staring at nothing. Staring at a memory. Seeing the dream landscape superimposed over the memory.

"Lina?" Gourry said softly, grasping her shoulders and shaking her gently. "What was wrong with your bed?"

She swallowed hard and then whispered, "I slaughtered it." She looked into Gourry's eyes, saw the worry, the disbelief. It shook her to the core. "I slaughtered it," she repeated, her voice louder. "I hacked it to shreds, until it was dead, dead, DEAD!" She jumped off the bed. "That's why this has to be a dream!" she shouted.

She wanted to wake up. She needed to wake up.

"Your bed is not dead," Gourry said simply. "And you're not dreaming."

His calm tone infuriated her. It scared her. She had to be dreaming. He was not helping. That was the way it worked in the dreams sometimes. Not when she was awake. When she was awake, he understood. He was the only one who did. "I don't want this to be real," she shouted, knowing that she was moving beyond anger and fear and into hysterical. "You're not here. The bed isn't here. It's not real," she insisted.

The pouch. She had to find it. That was real. The pouch that held fragments of destruction, fragments of possibility. She turned toward the bed, pushing him aside, and tearing frantically through blankets, pillows, and sheets. She was still wearing the green dress. The pouch should have been in her pocket, but maybe it fell out while she was sleeping. If only she could find it! It would prove that she was dreaming!

Without warning, Gourry grabbed her, pinning her arms to her side. She struggled ineffectually as he pulled her closer. Damn him. First he overpowered her magic, now he was overpowering her body. She opened her mouth to scream at him, to summon the magic that would prove that she was strong, but before the words came out, he was kissing her.

She was drowning.

Down.

And down.

Deeper into the black depths.

Where there was stillness.

Silence.

Where she was safe.

It felt so good to be safe.

Gourry released her lips, and gave her a weak smile that did little to hide the worry, the underlying anger, and the hint of desperation that still lurked in his eyes. "I thought a kiss would work the best," he said gently as his arms circled around her, holding her close.

With a shuddering sigh, Lina felt the hysteria recede. She was still scared. But at least she was no longer hovering on the edge of control. "Work best for what?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around him and lay her head on his chest so that she could hear his heartbeat.

"For helping you get back to yourself," he responded simply.

She thought back to the last time she had completely lost control in his presence, when she had tried to cast a Dragon Slave inside the common room of a tiny inn. That time he had slapped her hard enough to leave a nasty bruise that was so bad Amelia had to heal it. The pain and the bruise had not bothered her. Well, of course it hurt, but it was a small price to pay to be alive. Still, she had to admit, this method was much better, much more effective.

And not one she could let him use in public.

After another shuddering sigh, she pushed back from Gourry and looked around the room. At the closed door that led to the outer rooms of her suite, and at the bed that was no longer in millions of fragments. First things first.

"Why did you break the lock on my room?" she asked softly.

"So I could put you in your bed," he said brusquely. "Be happy I didn't try to put you in mine." The last sentence came out in an undertone so low it was almost a growl.

Lina pushed back even further so she could see his face, feeling a hint of panic returning.

"I can keep playing, Lina," he said softly, angrily. "But the longer we stay here, the harder it's going to be to keep women out of my bed, and the more people are going to wonder if I don't take a woman to my bed."

So that was what was bothering him. "Who was in your bed," Lina asked, matching his tone, matching his anger.

"Phil's cousin," he replied curtly. "The one who's next in line for the throne after Amelia," he added.

"That bitch!" Lina snarled, curling her hands into fists. It took longer than she would have thought for her to realize that if the Marquessa of Darionay had been in Gourry's bed, she had calculated correctly and won a couple of bets for a tidy sum of money.

"And what about you?" Gourry asked, his words sounding clipped. "Rumor is that you took that dancer to your bed."

"I didn't," Lina replied immediately in a flat tone.

Gourry cupped her face gently, his gesture at odds with his tone. "Both of us are playing. Are you willing to accept the consequences?"

"You're _mine_, Gourry," Lina bit out, her eyes burning into his. "I told you that."

"Even if I take another woman to my bed?"

Her anger deflated at his words, leaving her feeling suddenly vulnerable. "Do you want to?" she whispered.

His fingers tilted her chin up. "No," he said harshly before he kissed her.

Once again, she was drowning, but there was no peace and safety this time. His kiss was hot and hard. Demanding. Possessive. When he broke it off, she was gasping and barely capable of coherent thought.

"There's only one woman I want in my bed, Lina," he said, his voice a verbal caress that washed over her skin, through her mind, making her burn. "There's only one woman I want for my lover."

Gourry stepped away from her, and Lina bit her lip in an effort to stifle the moan of longing that threatened to escape. "How far do you want us to take this?" he asked.

She tried to think rationally. There was a reason for the game. It was supposed to keep him safe, to buy her time to figure out how they could be together without her having to worry that he would be used as a weapon against her. That's why she had placed the bet: to buy time, because the more people talked about Gourry flirting with palace maids or having an affair with the Marquessa of Darionay, the less they were thinking about the possibility that they were lovers.

_How conceited. How . . . selfish._

If Gourry took another woman to his bed, it could buy time. It could keep him safe. Especially since they were in enemy territory. Rationally, it was the right decision to continue playing this game. It was just sex.

_Can you live with that? How much time do you need, really?_

Flirting was one thing. She could accept him flirting, even if she did not like it. So she should be able to accept him having sex with another woman. Especially if it could keep him safe—

_Doubtful._

—but it might . . . no, it _would_ break something in him. Something that might not be possible to mend. And he would do it for her. He would break himself if she asked him to. _That_ scared her.

_Who do you trust?_

Gourry. With all her heart, with all her soul. Without hesitation.

"What do you suggest?" she asked.

"First, I want to know how far you want us to take this," Gourry replied, repeating his earlier question.

Lina blew her breath out gustily. "I can handle the flirting, even though I don't really like it," she said softly, slowly, staring at the walls, the bed, at anything but his face. "But even if it's just sex, just scratching a physical itch . . ." she trailed off, knowing she was blushing. Steeling herself, she met his gaze. "If you're going to take any woman to your bed," she said firmly, "it had damn well better be me!"

Something flared in his eyes. "If I take you to my bed," he said intently, "here, in Seyruun, I'm not going to hide it. Everyone will know. Zel and Amelia will _know_."

She nodded, acknowledging that she understood. And she did. He wanted their relationship public, even though he knew her reasons for trying to keep it hidden. Her _selfish_ reasons, that were all about what she needed, and not about what he needed. She tried to ignore the frisson in her heart, scrubbing her hands against her dress, partially in an attempt to dry off suddenly sweaty palms, partially to distract herself. Then she glanced at the bed and sighed.

Yesterday morning, she had awoke amidst the rubble of a bed she had torn to shreds. Today she had awoke in a bed that was whole and unharmed. Which was the truth?

_Destruction begets creation begets destruction begats . . ._

Would she still be able to follow her path if she lost hold of reality?

Or was it that the path itself led to insanity?

* * *

AN: I have rough sketches of the charts Lina and Zel developed on my website.


	6. Chapter 6: Rising Moon

Such an intense dream.

Amelia sat on the thick stone window ledge, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees and her cheek leaning against the chilled glass. The cold stone and glass leached the heat from her body but did nothing to cool the inferno that raged inside her.

She wanted with an intensity that was almost frightening. It was almost enough to make her seek out Zelgadis's rooms—to beg him to touch her the way he did in her dreams.

There was only one thing that stopped her: the fact that he could not feel.

In her dreams, he touched her as if he could feel.

Outside of her dreams, he touched her as if she were a thing. Even though she now understood why that was the case, even though she knew that he _wanted_ to feel, that wanting was not enough. She did not want to feel like a _thing_ in his arms when he touched her or kissed her. She needed more than that from him.

She stared out her window, seeing nothing but shadows against the night sky. It would pass. Given enough time, this longing would pass.

At least, until the next time.

If only there were a way to share her feelings with Zelgadis. She smiled a bit at the thought and wondered what her feelings might do to him. Given the strength of her longings and the way they affected her . . .

Images and sensations from a half-remembered dream skirred across her awareness: Zelgadis kissing her forcefully while she struggled against him; Zelgadis running his fingers through her hair while he tilted her face towards his and inclined his head so slowly that the anticipation made her breath hitch in the back of her throat. They were images of Zelgadis feeling and acting on those feelings.

Instead of fading, the burning desire intensified.

She jumped up off the window sill and paced in quiet desperation, needing to _move_, needing release.

Needing Zelgadis.

* * *

_Now what?_

Right now, it would be wise to keep his mind on where he was and what he was doing. Phil had requested this meeting and had chosen to conduct it as they walked through his private gardens, rather than in his office. Both of them were bundled against the chill wintry air, although in his case, he did it because it was expected rather than out of any need for comfort or warmth.

_She stood by the side of his bed clothed only in her skin. "Do you want to touch me," she asked, "or watch as I touch myself?" While waiting for his answer, she ran her fingers over her lips, down the side of her throat, tracing a path that led between her breasts and lower still . . . . He could feel the heat of her reaching across the space that separated them, stoking something deep within him, giving him just a hint, just a taste, but it was enough to move him, enough to make him touch her as if he could feel what he was doing. And when she cried out in ecstasy—_

"—simple misunderstanding, apparently."

He was walking with Amelia's father. It really was not the right time to be thinking about the things he had done to Amelia last night—it was wildly inappropriate, in fact.

"Oh?" he commented, while he tried to pick up the thread of the conversation. Unfortunately, it was proving to be incredibly and unusually difficult. He had not felt so vividly since . . .

"Yes," Phil responded. "Instead of meeting with me as I had intended, Zander met with my father." He stopped abruptly and turned to face Zelgadis. "What are your impressions of the situation?" he asked, looking rather stern.

_Situation?_ Given the nature of his thoughts, for a panicked moment, he thought Phil was referring to Amelia coming to his rooms in the middle of the night. Then he realized that logically, Phil must be asking about Zander. And most likely, Lord Gottwald as well.

"I doubt it was a simple misunderstanding," he replied, hoping that he sounded normal. "Zander seems far too savvy to mistake 'king' for 'ruling prince.' It also seems to be quite the coincidence that he could elude all the palace spies and gossips between escorting Lina to her rooms and the evening meeting with the Council."

"The palace gossips don't know _everything_ that goes on," Phil replied, giving Zelgadis a very direct look.

Another moment of panic. Did Phil know? "You mean the way everyone seems to know where the Marquessa of Darionay spent the night, but no one can seem to confirm where Gourry was?"

Phil's eyes twinkled with mirth, although he maintained a stern expression. "It's possible to hide one's actions from the gossips, if one knows what one is doing," he agreed. Then the mirth faded, and Zelgadis could see Phil's concern. "So you think that Zander deliberately sought out my father? For what purpose?"

"I'd guess that Lim is looking for information they could use to an advantage," he suggested.

Phil snorted. "It doesn't take a genius to realize that," he said pointedly as he resumed his amble along the garden path. "Do you trust Jeremiah's intentions towards Amelia?"

"No," Zelgadis responded immediately.

"Oh?" Phil asked mildly. "Why's that?"

"His request to court her has nothing to do with who she is. I think it's a distraction. _Everything_ about Lim seems to be a distraction." As he had told Phil in his report, it was a country too prosperous for its size, with mercenaries masquerading as palace servants and a lord who . . .

"I have never believed in following the tradition of royalty marrying for political convenience," Phil said quietly. "Amelia knows this. She knows that my greatest wish for my children is that they follow their hearts, wherever they may lead."

"Is that why you let Gracia leave?" Zelgadis asked quietly.

Phil nodded curtly. "Despite this, Amelia is acting in a way that would seem to be dictated by political necessity. You've taken Amelia in hand. Do you understand why she did this?"

Was Phil's choice of words deliberate? Or was it just that he had a guilty conscience? And why should he feel guilty? He lifted his chin slightly. "If you're asking me to explain why she agreed to allow Lord Gottwald to court her, I'd have to say that I don't think Amelia fully understands herself. She told me that she both trusts and does not trust Lord Gottwald." He could not quite keep the stiff tone out of his voice as he replied.

"I asked for your impressions, Zelgadis," Phil responded in a gentle rebuke. "You are Amelia's bodyguard and escort. At the moment, you are in the best position to understand her. And since you escorted her to Lim and back, you are in the best position to assess the situation."

It cost him. Dearly. But he still said it. "I think Amelia is attracted to Lord Gottwald," he admitted. "I don't think she's fully aware of it, or that she would admit it even if she were." He sighed internally. "I think Lord Gottwald recognized her attraction and is using it for his own purposes. So, no, I don't trust his intentions towards Amelia. But I also don't think she's in any danger."

They walked in silence for several moments. "And what of you?" Phil finally asked.

So many ways to interpret that question. Again, he found himself wondering if it was deliberate. What of him? Did he want to continue as Amelia's bodyguard and escort? Did he want to step back and watch another man court Amelia? Watch her possibly fall in love with someone else? Zelgadis stopped walking and turned to face Phil. "Your Highness, I would like your permission to court Princess Amelia," he requested formally.

He was not quite sure what he expected, but it definitely was not Phil's booming laugh, which was loud enough to flush a couple of birds from the trees. "Was that so hard?" Phil asked heartily. "I know that Amelia loves you. Of course you have my permission. In fact, you've had my permission for quite some time, now."

* * *

_You've been remiss. That's why she's trying to kill you._

Amelia hesitated a moment, her grandfather's comment echoing in her mind. With an inaudible sigh, she prepared a shielding spell so that she could cast it in a fraction of a moment, and opened the door to the library.

Lina was standing next to her favorite desk, focused on the pile of scrap parchment that littered it. She glanced up sharply at the sound of the door closing. Amelia watched Lina make a snap assessment and relax imperceptibly as she flashed her a welcoming smile. It took a great deal of effort for Amelia to return that smile. She had wanted to believe that Lina had never been really aware when she had so carelessly lobbed offensive spells in her general direction. She had wanted to believe that it was Lina's nightmares that made her so aggressive. But there was nothing to indicate that a nightmare was riding Lina at the moment.

And Amelia had seen the initial consideration and the shift in her eyes when Lina decided that she was a friend today, and not a potential enemy.

If only she knew what she had done. If only she understood why thinking about Lina and Zelgadis made her so angry. Lina was her closest female friend. The closest thing she had to a sister ever since . . . No. She was not going to think about those things now. Today, Lina was a friend.

Amelia drifted over to the table, watching as Lina returned her attention back to the pile of parchment in front of her. Seemingly at random, Lina picked up a piece of crumpled parchment, smoothed it out, and scanned the writing before placing it on a pile on the chair beside her. Then she picked up another one, but this one seemed to disgust her, if the expression that flitted across her face was any indication. Before Amelia could phrase the question to ask her what was wrong, Lina turned, dropped the parchment in a porcelain dish sitting on the chair behind her. There was a soft "fwoomp" sound accompanied by a small puff of smoke. Lina reached into the bowl with her left hand and stirred the ash with her fingers. Then, almost absently, she rubbed her sooty fingers against the front of her right forearm before wiping her fingers off on her dress.

"What are you doing?" Amelia finally asked, as if she was not concerned by the fact that Lina was burning parchment in the library and marking herself with arcane symbols. They stretched from shoulder to wrist on one arm, and about halfway down the other. Amelia recognized a few of the symbols, such as the one that was typically used for wards and the one for fire, but they were not arranged in any logical pattern that she could determine.

"Sorting," Lina replied, sounding completely normal. "Destroying," she added, glancing quickly up at Amelia before returning her attention to the pile in front of her.

Amelia suppressed a shudder. She had seen that look in Lina's eyes once before, when Lina had been possessed by the Lord of Nightmares, who had dispassionately explained that Lina had sacrificed herself for the benefit of Gourry. Impossible to describe that look, but she remembered it so vividly. Was that why Lina was having nightmares? Because she was being possessed by the Lord of Nightmares? Amelia studied her friend as she continued to sort and destroy.

All she could feel was Lina. There was none of that awesome and terrifying sense of being in the presence of POWER she had felt in the remains of Hellmaster's lair. If Lina was being possessed, it was something too subtle for Amelia to detect. Although there was something . . .

"You just gonna stand there all day?" Lina asked affectionately, glancing up briefly from her sorting.

Amelia smiled automatically in response to Lina's tone. It was just so . . . normal Lina, and it made her happy. Lina would be fine, she was sure of it. "I was going to ask you for a favor," she said, "but it can wait until later if you're busy."

"What kind of favor?" Lina asked absently.

"You know how there's a spell that can make you see or hear what someone else is seeing or hearing?" Amelia asked. She had thought of this possibility early this morning.

"You mean like a scrying spell?" Lina asked in return as she incinerated another piece of parchment and marked herself with the arcane symbol that represented earth, juxtaposing it with the symbol for female.

Amelia nodded, and then felt silly doing so, since Lina was not even looking at her. Maybe something was wrong with her. Lina did a lot of wild and crazy things, but burning parchment and deliberately smearing herself with the ash was beyond the norm. Amelia knew that if Zelgadis had been there, he would have been ripping into Lina, asking her what she thought she was doing. Yet somehow, on an instinctive level, Amelia knew demanding answers would be the wrong thing to do. Maybe it came from watching Gourry deflect their attempts to question Lina during the journey to Seyruun. If Lina was teetering on the edge of control, Amelia did not want to be the one to push her over the edge, especially since Gourry was not around to help.

"Amelia?" Lina asked, making her realize that she had not responded verbally.

"Sort of like scrying, but not exactly" Amelia replied, pulling her thoughts back to their conversation. "Do you think it'd be possible to develop a spell that lets you feel what someone else is feeling?"

Lina stopped sorting, and she stared into space, her eyes focused on only something she could see. "Do you want to feel what someone else is feeling, or make someone else feel what you're feeling?" she asked slowly.

"I want someone else to feel what I'm feeling," Amelia answered, as hope mingled with the frustration of yet another sleepless night.

Lina focused on her at that and smiled affectionately. "Someone who can't feel the same way we do?" she asked innocently, even as her eyes sparkled with innuendo.

Amelia nodded as a smile that was one part embarrassed and one part tender flitted across her lips.

"Oh Amelia," Lina exclaimed as she grasped Amelia's hands in hers and squeezed affectionately, "I'm so happy for you!"

Amelia's smile broadened as she returned the pressure. "So, do you think it's possible?"

Lina made a face. "Well, it's definitely possible. Remember the curse Martina put on me?"

"Oh yeah!" Amelia exclaimed. "I'd forgotten about that! Remember how Mr. Xellos made Mr. Gourry bump into you so that he grabbed your breast and then—" Amelia interrupted herself, suddenly feeling a bit on the green side. She should know better, she really should.

"That jellyfish," Lina muttered under her breath in annoyance. Amelia could practically see the pressure rising for an incipient explosion.

"Anyways . . ." Amelia said loudly, knowing it was a patently obvious attempt to move the conversation along, "I'm not looking for something like a curse. More like sharing."

Lina gave her a look that had her sweating, but her expression changed, first becoming thoughtful, and then looking hopeful. "I'm pretty sure we can develop something suitable," she said, as her focus turned inward again. "Why don't you get started," she suggested. "I'll finish this up," she said with a gesture at the parchment still littering the desk, "and then we can see what we can do."

Before Amelia could respond, she heard the tolling of the bells that marked the end of the first division of morning. "Unfortunately," she said as she sighed in resignation, "If I don't get going, I'll be late for my next meeting."

"I thought one of the perquisites of royalty was being late as often as you wanted," Lina replied impishly.

"It's hardly just to use my status to make other people wait," Amelia protested, in partial mock indignation. Partial, because she generally did not like using her status to bend the rules, and because she recognized the teasing. "Besides," she continued in a rueful tone, "being late isn't worth the scolding I'll receive."

"Scolding?" Lina scoffed. "Considering how often Phil is deliberately late for effect, it hardly seems fair for him to chide you for being occasionally tardy."

"Oh, Daddy's not the one I'm worried about," Amelia responded quickly.

Lina looked up and studied Amelia. "Zelgadis," she said in a flat tone.

"Zelgadis," Amelia agreed, although her tone was comically lugubrious.

It was enough to make Lina laugh. "Go do your princessy things." She smoothed another piece of parchment, her brow furrowing slightly. "I have to finish this first," she said with a sweeping arm gesture that surprisingly, indicated her half-marked arm, rather than the pile of parchment on the table, "but as I said, I'll see what I can come up with." She flashed Amelia another smile, but it was clear that her attention had refocused on something else, and her mood, although still friendly, was definitely more dangerous than it had been.

As Amelia headed for the door, a frisson started to do battle with the happiness in her heart, which made her realize that she was a lot happier than she thought she should be. Her grandfather's warning echoed in her ears even as she shut the door to the library and leaned back against it, closing her eyes, and trying to find some semblance of equilibrium. She knew what was making her uncomfortable: Lina burning parchment and marking herself, that look that had briefly been in Lina's eyes, and the fact that it was never really clear what would set her off and make her decide that her friends were actually her enemies. So what was it that was making her so happy?

When it occurred to her, a broad grin bloomed, and she really had to control the urge to climb up to the highest point she could find and sing about the beauty of life: Lina was pregnant. The baby's heart must have started beating at some point after Amelia had entered the room: that was the point where the life-force of a developing fetus became strong enough for shrine maidens to recognize. It explained why she had become increasingly happy and optimistic, even as Lina continued to exhibit erratic behavior and moved closer to that edge that made her dangerous.

Amelia smiled in wonder at the miracle of life. She wanted to dance and sing. She wanted to congratulate Lina. And unless she completely missed her guess, Gourry was the father, which made her nearly giddy with happiness.

But also terrified, since they seemed to be going out of their way to make everyone in the palace think that they were not together. Why was it so important for them to hide their relationship? That thought led her right back to her grandfather's warning.

Zelgadis was probably right: it was best to just play along with them at the moment. They would share if they thought it was appropriate. She did trust Gourry to keep Lina stable—at least as stable as seemed possible right now—and if he thought it was necessary to act like he was playing the field, she should trust that it was necessary.

But maybe it was necessary for her to be herself, too? She wanted them to be together. It just felt right. They belonged together, and it was not right for them to hide their feelings from others. There was absolutely nothing wrong with them loving each other. Even if not all stories had a happy ending, there was no way to achieve a happy ending if people acted like it was impossible.

Amelia nodded her head. She would continue to work to get them together. But she would also act as if she did not know that Lina was pregnant . . . but that did not mean that she was completely powerless. She smiled to herself. A party in Lina's honor was definitely in order, even if no one knew it was in Lina's honor. After all, one of the perks of being princess was the fact that she could throw a party if she felt like it.

"There you are." Zelgadis turned a corner and approached her looking slightly annoyed, which she expected. What surprised her was the subtle softening to his expression when he saw her.

"Sorry," she apologized, knowing that she was on the verge of running late. "I was talking with Miss Lina."

His expression shifted to anger tinged with worry. "Alone?" he demanded.

She was not sure if she felt annoyed or happy. It made her happy that he worried about her, but she was hardly helpless. "I'm not a child," she said pointedly. "I had a defensive spell ready, just in case." Besides, she was hardly going to ask Zelgadis to accompany her while she talked to Lina about developing a spell that she wanted to surprise him with. After last night's dream, she had to figure out something or go crazy.

A flicker of emotions played over his face, possessiveness being the one she recognized most clearly.

"I'm not a thing, either," she said softly. It was not just his touch that made her feel that way sometimes. "I do love you, Zelgadis," she said a bit louder, "but I am not a prize to be won. I am me. I have my own desires and motivations. I make my own decisions."

He studied her, his face transforming into the mask he used to hide his true feelings, to convey the façade of the heartless mystical swordsman. She had come to realize that he used it when he had strong feelings, typically when they were in conflict with each other. Finally he gave her a curt nod. Then he offered her his arm. "We'd better go, or we'll be late," he said evenly.

She took his arm, considering it a good sign. "The master architect said he had some new design ideas for the bridge," she commented as they started walking towards her rooms. "I can't wait to see them! The sooner we can get the bridge rebuilt, the better."

* * *

There was a definite bounce in his step that had not been there for quite some time. As promised, he had joined the guards for their daily drill, which had started at dawn and extended through the early afternoon. And, as expected, Phil's captain of the guard had worked him hard. Not that he had any regrets. The workout had been . . . satisfying. In a way, a much better test of his skill than the showboating he had indulged in yesterday. There was a kind of simple contentment to be achieved by running through the exercises, and although he would consider himself an exacting taskmaster, he could not view himself from the outside, and Phil's captain had made quite a few suggestions to sharpen moves that he had allowed to slide.

Then, there were the demonstrations. Those were a true test of skill: moving through a particular pattern at speed was now as natural as breathing. Phil's captain had him move through patterns at varying speeds, slowing them down enough so that the movements were recognizable, even for the less skilled. He would also command Gourry to stop at crucial moments within patterns, and hold the pose while he lectured his men about the direction or force of the blow, about the subtle shifts in position that were the difference between a successful strike and leaving oneself vulnerable. The demonstrations had required a level of control he had not typically employed, even in his personal workouts. He knew Phil's captain was making him stop at the most difficult and awkward times. He was still grateful.

After the demonstrations had come the sparring matches. Phil's soldiers had drawn lots for the right to spar with him. It felt like he had sparred with an entire company. It had certainly been a lot.

He was exhausted, but it was a good clean exhaustion. It made him happy.

But what really made him happy was the fact that Lina was going to let him make their relationship public.

Oh, he had no plans to proclaim to everyone that they were lovers. That would be too strange, considering their recent behavior. That would make it obvious that they had been hiding things, and it would hurt the people they had played this little game with. Most of the girls he had been flirting with were nice enough, so he really did not want them to think that he had been using them. Even if he had thoroughly enjoyed the flirting.

No, he was just going to start courting Lina—trying to seduce her—and he was not going to be picky about where he did it and who saw. This time around, he intended to enjoy the process fully.

As expected, he found her in the library, seated at her favorite desk. There were a few things that did surprise him, though.

First, she was covered in soot: it marked her hair, her clothes, her face and skin. His first thought was that she had fallen into a fire pit, but he dismissed it almost immediately. The markings were too . . . deliberate, too purposeful to be accidental.

Second, instead of staring at a desk covered with parchment and books, the surface before her was empty of everything except for a few tiny objects that she kept arranging in different patterns.

Third, when he stepped into the room, her gaze moved languidly from the objects to him, and her smile was part predatory, part sensual. And not Lina. She swept the objects into her hand, then pushed her chair back and stood gracefully. "Spar with me, Gourry Gabriev," she invited.

"My Lady," he responded, inclining his head politely. He had not seen her since the festival at Eshar and wondered why he saw her now. "Does Lina know you're here?" he asked.

Concern flickered in her eyes. "She's sleeping right now. She needs the rest."

"Is she okay?" he pressed. He felt both relieved and alarmed to know that the Lady seemed to be worried about Lina as well.

"As much as she can be in this time and place," she finally said after a hesitation. "More, I cannot say."

"Cannot? Or will not?" he responded, wondering what made him ask such a question. It sounded more like something Lina would ask.

She seemed to be as surprised as he was by the question. She cocked her head and studied him for a moment. "Yes," she suddenly announced, her lips quirking as if she were trying, and failing, to keep a straight face after delivering the punch line to a joke. Then her expression turned serious and she closed the distance between them, holding her hand out toward his.

Almost reflexively, he offered her his hand in response. She clasped it with both of hers and he could feel the objects she placed in his palm, before she gently closed his fingers around them. "Keep these safe for her," she directed.

Gourry opened his hand and studied the four tiny fragments: a shred of red silk; a white feather; a brass nail; a splinter of mahogany wood. He did not understand why they needed to be kept safe, but it was not likely that he would understand even if it were explained to him. Still, he did not need to understand in order to keep things safe. He fished a square of scrap parchment from one of the bins scattered around the desks and folded it around the objects. Then he slipped it into his pocket so that it lay next to the mirror. That would do for a temporary fix. He would figure out something better later.

"Now," she said when he was done. "I would like to spar with the one who made it possible for Kušuh to challenge me." She sounded both curious and chagrined.

"It would be my honor, my Lady," he said as he offered her his arm.

She smiled at him again as she accepted his arm, carefully placing her forearm over his, her hand resting in his palm. It was the way Phil escorted Amelia when they were doing something official and formal. Except that when Phil escorted Amelia, Amelia never looked like someone had doodled all over her with soot. The soot would attract attention, and under that kind of scrutiny, people would recognize the difference between Lina and the Lady. "Is it okay if people know you're here?" he asked.

"Few will really notice us. Fewer still will recognize—or understand—the difference," she replied easily. "Those who do . . . I can deal with them as needed." There was eager anticipation coloring her tone.

Gourry found it hard to believe that people would not notice. Doodles aside, she may be using Lina's form, but everything about her was different than Lina: from the way she moved, to the timbre of her voice, to the sense of presence that blended promised violence with earthy sensuality. Then again, most people seemed not to notice things that he thought were obvious, so maybe she was right. With an easy shrug, he escorted her to the sparring fields, ignoring the occasional quizzical look they got along the way.

Sparring with her was the most intense experience of his life. It gave him a sense of how Phil's less experienced guards had felt when they crossed swords with him. Any advantage he might have due to his size and reach was negligible. She could counter his moves before he even started the patterns. Her style was a combination of beautifully intricate flowing swirls of movement punctuated by violent brute force swings. Both were devastatingly effective, and more than once, he was glad they were only sparring, for he knew he was not her equal.

And he knew he could learn a lot from her.

He dipped his sword in the universally acknowledged pattern of surrender, and she pulled up. Both of them were breathing hard. Once again, he offered her his arm, and they walked around the field in silence as they cooled down from their exertions.

After two circuits, he broke the silence. "Thank you," he said simply.

She stopped and turned to face him. "I'm not doing this for you," she replied seriously. "And not for _him_, either," she added with just a touch of petulance.

"I know," Gourry answered. And he did. "But it doesn't matter. I still want to thank you."

She shook her head, not in negation, but in acknowledgment. "I can see why she loves you," she said softly. "As well as why Kušuh finds you so attractive." She shook her head again, and then grasped both of his hands in hers. "Don't stay here, in this place, much longer," she warned, squeezing his hands for emphasis. "You need to leave. Soon." She held his eyes with hers.

"I promised Phil that I would take her back to Eshar," he said.

She nodded. "That is good," she murmured. "When you decide to leave this place," she added holding his hands firmly, "don't let her delay."

He sighed. "I'll tr—"

Her slashing look interrupted him, and he swallowed hard at the implied threat in her eyes. "I won't let her delay," he agreed, "even if I have to pick her up and physically carry her out."

She nodded again. "There's just one more thing—"

"Miss Lina, did you receive my message?" a melodious baritone interrupted her, voiced by a clean-shaven man wearing the robes of the priesthood who was on the other side of the courtyard. Gourry recognized him as one of Phil's advisors.

The Lady looked startled for a brief moment, then she studied Phil's advisor with a calculating and avaricious expression in her eyes. Dropping Gourry's hands, she left him behind while she seemingly drifted towards the other man, closing the distance between them at an alarming rate even though it looked like she was moving no faster than a normal walk.

The man stopped suddenly, looking like prey who had just realized that he had inadvertently caught the attention of a predator. And in a way he had, Gourry realized.

"You're—" the man started to say. Before he could finish more than the first word, the Lady was on him, her hand snaking around his neck and drawing him down for a passionate kiss.

It was the strangest thing he had ever experienced, watching Lina's shadow-shrouded body pressing up against another man, knowing that it was not Lina acting and feeling himself react in several different ways all at the same time. Part of him felt sympathy for her prey and wondered what kind of fodder this behavior was going to create for the palace gossips. Part of him was reacting to her overpowering sensuality. Mostly, he felt overwhelming jealousy, and he had to exert all of his self-control to stop himself from marching across the courtyard and ripping the two of them apart.

"Ah, there you are!" The high-pitched voice announced the arrival of Phil's lush cousin, the one with the fancy name he could never quite remember. Although Lina would say that he could never remember anyone's name. Of course, that was patently untrue, since he definitely remembered her name.

Phil's cousin, on the other hand, what was the point of trying to remember her name? Still, she was a welcome distraction at the moment, since watching the Lady kiss someone else while wearing Lina's body was making him crazy. With his best vacuous smile in place, he turned to face her. "My lady," he said, offering her a courtly bow.

"You've managed to elude me twice, now," she said with a pout. "One might think that someone was trying to avoid her."

"Phil said that you're dangerous," he replied, offering her his arm.

"Did he, now," she commented with a smile that made him think of a contented cat. He half expected her to start purring when she linked her arm with his.

Maybe it was just the way she seemed to think she was dangerous, without having an understanding of what true danger really felt like. Maybe it was just perversity that made him do it. But he subtly angled their path to intersect with the Lady and the priest.

He found it rather interesting that as soon as she noticed them, Phil's cousin started actively steering them towards the Lady and the priest.

The Lady noticed them first, breaking her kiss with the priest. She offered Phil's cousin a graceful curtsey. "Marquessa," she said politely before smiling impishly, just as Lina might. "Thanks to you, my purse is quite a bit heavier today," she added with a knowing look in Gourry's direction.

Gourry felt a hand clench around his heart. His first thought was that Lina had "woken up," given her tone and reactions. He realized a moment later that the Lady was adopting Lina's mannerisms and tone. Still, this was not going the way he had hoped. But then again, he was not really sure why he had thought the Lady would fight Phil's cousin for him, especially when she was wrapped around the priest.

"Is that so?" Phil's cousin asked in a clear challenge. "I'm surprised to learn that anyone would bet against you."

The Lady laughed, again mimicking Lina's mannerisms. "As I'm sure you know, anonymous bets are incredibly easy to make, and I do have some connections in the palace."

Gourry stopped listening to the conversation at that point, although he continued to monitor tone and undertone, and let his focus expand. If the marquessa noticed anything unusual about Lina, she hid it incredibly well. On the other hand, he could not but help notice the slightly glazed expression on the priest's face, or the fact that his eyes kept tracing the sooty patterns that covered Lina's body. Gourry felt another surge of jealousy at that point.

Suddenly, the Lady took a step closer to Phil's cousin, whose nearly imperceptible flinch backwards brought his focus back to the conversation. "You should know," the Lady said as she took another step, "that he's done playing." Her glance flicked at Gourry and then focused back on Phil's cousin. "You should also know," she continued softly, her voice full of soft menace, "that if you hurt my protector, you'll have to deal with me." For the briefest moment, the Lady dropped the mask of Lina, and the full force of her presence hit him almost like a blow.

Then it was gone. "Did you want something, Gourry?" the Lady asked, sounding once again exactly like Lina.

He had already gotten it, although he was not sure why she had done it. He had wanted to see the Lady challenge Phil's cousin and show her what a truly dangerous woman was like. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her staring at the Lady with a shocked look on her face, and since she was still wrapped around his arm, he could feel the slight tremors going through her body. Still, it was not like he could just say that he had gotten what he wanted out loud. Then it suddenly occurred to him. "Yeah," he said enthusiastically. "I was wondering if you'd spar with me. She," he cocked his head towards Phil's cousin and felt her stiffen, "wants a private demonstration, so I was wondering if you'd help me."

Although her expression was thoughtful, the Lady's eyes sparkled with barely suppressed mirth. "Sure," she replied easily. "Where did you have in mind?"

"How about the Arcadia Room," Phil's cousin suggested, as if this had been her intention all along. "It's not used often, but it should have more than enough open space." He had to admit, she recovered quickly. He was willing to bet that most people would not have realized how much the Lady's threat had shaken her.

"Sounds good," the Lady replied. "Just give me a few moments to finish up my business here. I'll meet you there soon," she said as she turned her attention back to the priest.

As Gourry escorted Phil's cousin toward the palace, he heard the Lady say softly to the priest, "I have a task for you."

He was not sure why, but those words filled him with foreboding.

* * *

"It's beautiful!" Zelgadis exclaimed. "Truly, your reputation is well-deserved."

Master Sculptor Keliya waved her hand to dismiss his compliment, but he could tell that she was pleased. "That was a rather poor performance," she replied.

"If that was a poor performance, your masterpieces must be truly remarkable," Zelgadis commented as he continued to admire the sculpture of a mother cradling a newborn infant. The focal point of the piece was the mother's face, which managed to convey radiant joy, exhaustion, and wonder as she gazed down on the tiny perfect life in her arms.

That piece was enough to make the decision to offer her a commission. However, it was expected that the customer would peruse all the available works before talking business, so he took the time to examine all the pieces she had on display.

It was not so much that her sculpture was so lifelike, although that was certainly true. Nor was it the way she was able to make stone look soft and pliable that made her the best in Seyruun. It was the way she was able to capture the emotion of a scene and then convey those feelings in a way that evoked a sympathetic response in the viewer. As he examined the pieces she had out for show in her workshop, he realized that her range was impressive, and she seemed equally skilled at evoking anger, passion, sorrow, joy, jealousy, ecstasy, and countless others.

"You said you would have concept sketches for me?" Zelgadis asked after he finished examining her work.

"This way," she said, leading him into a medium-sized room. One of the walls was dominated by a huge picture window that let in copious amounts of light. Two of the walls were covered with curtains. The fourth wall had curtains tied back, revealing a slate surface that covered the entire wall. Four concept drawings were sketched in chalk on this wall.

Zelgadis studied each from across the room first. One focused on a traveling family of six, walking alongside wagons filled with wrapped bales. Another showed the same family seated around a fire: talking and eating. A third showed the family huddled together, trying to protect each other, and the final was arranged like a family portrait.

"I thought I would do these two as reliefs," Keliya said as she indicated the traveling and campfire scenes, "on either side of the bridge. They should be visible by anyone traveling along the river. The other two would be free-standing pieces on either side of the bridge."

Zelgadis moved to study the sketches closer. "I like these three," he said slowly, indicating the non-portrait sketches. "But this one . . ." he trailed off and glanced at her.

"It's too static, isn't it?" she offered.

Zelgadis nodded in agreement as he continued to study the sketches. "It needs a focal point, something to balance the fear in this one," he said as he indicated the one where the family was huddled together. "How about something like your 'Birth' piece?" he suggested.

Her gaze unfocused as she considered. Then she picked up a piece of chalk and began to sketch quickly. "How about something like this," she said as she sketched the family standing together in a loose circle. "I could give them an ethereal quality: they have transformed into angels who protect the travelers who cross the Cylte here, and at the same time, convey the joy that they are still all together."

Zelgadis tried to control a frisson at her choice of words, recalling the conversation he and Lina had about destruction versus change. "Yes, that will work," he decided. "I like that a lot better." Amelia would probably like it a lot, too. At least he hoped that she liked it.

That was kind of the point. He had asked Phil for permission to formally court Amelia. Formally courting someone meant giving gifts, but he did not want to go down the typical route of flowers, chocolates, and promises that he never intended to keep. But a memorial to the family they had found slaughtered on the banks of the Cylte? He thought it would make Amelia happy. The death of that family had affected her deeply.

"This piece, though," she pointed at the family huddled together, "are you sure you want something that's going to evoke fear in travelers?"

The question took Zelgadis aback momentarily, and he tried to sort out the reasons he had asked for a piece to evoke fear. "I was thinking about something that would serve both as memorial and warning. It is going to mark the spot where a family was violently slaughtered. It's not so much that I want people to be afraid, and more that I want people to know what happened." He studied Keliya's drawing, considering how a naïve viewer would experience it. "I'm open to suggestion," he confessed.

Keliya considered the drawing, tapping the piece of chalk against her lips. "Do you have any idea what killed them?" she asked.

This time, it was impossible to control the frisson. _She was afraid that she had killed them. I know she recognized what we saw at the Cylte_. It was Gourry's guess about why Lina had snapped when they found the family. The Lina Inverse he had traveled with for so many years would never have slaughtered an innocent family. Oh, they might have been swept up in collateral damage, but she would not have torn them into unrecognizable pieces and left them for the carrion eaters.

The Lina Inverse he had watched over the past few weeks, though? It was hard to say what she might do if her control snapped completely.

Which is why Amelia spending time alone with Lina had bothered him so much. Amelia was right. She was not a thing to be possessed, and treating her as such—even if it was just motivated from an overpowering need to keep her safe—was not going to help anything.

"What is the worst thing you can imagine?" he finally asked in response to Keliya's question.

She blanched, then swallowed hard. After a moment, she turned back to the sketch, smudging out lines with her thumb and redrawing them for more impact. "It will be a challenge," she acknowledged, "but I think I do it. A piece that honors the terror of their deaths without scaring the viewer on the one side, the side where they died, balanced by sublime joy on the other." She adjusted one final line. "Will that be acceptable?" she asked.

"Yes," Zelgadis responded slowly. "Yes, that will work."

"Then, shall we discuss price?" she suggested as she wiped the chalk dust off her hands.

* * *

Finally. It had taken quite some doing: a lot of wheedling, some judicious delegating, and the calling in of a couple of favors, but she had managed to clear her schedule for the rest of the afternoon. Normally, it would not be so difficult to have time to herself. But in addition to her typical responsibilities, there was the work she needed to catch up on after being away, plus the negotiations with Lim. Add to that the fact that she had been granted the responsibility for overseeing the reconstruction of the bridge over the Cylte and the fact that she was also starting the investigation into the murder of the family . . . finding more than a brief moment over the past few days had been extremely challenging.

Just for today, she had the rest of the afternoon free, and she wanted to spend it with Zelgadis.

But when she arrived at his suite, Bryce informed her that Zelgadis was out on an errand, and he had no idea how long it would take.

Amelia sighed internally, even as she convinced Bryce to let her in so that she could wait. She could hardly blame him for finding something to do; she had been so busy lately, and she had not said anything about having the afternoon free because she had wanted to surprise him. The result was that she was here, and he was not.

With nothing much better to do, she looked around his sitting room, smiling to herself as she noted the subtle touches he had added to personalize the room and make it his own. He seemed to prefer neutral colors, and the green and gold color scheme was slowly transforming into a beige and gold scheme. Each time he came back to Seyruun, there was some simple change, whether it was the draperies or the furniture. He also had scattered a few of his personal belongings around the room. His guitar sat proudly on a stand in the corner, next to a music stand with sheet music. She glanced at the unfinished score and recognized his hand, wondering if he was composing or copying. Probably the former, she thought affectionately. Next to the window there was an easel with a watercolor still life that looked nearly complete. There were also assorted small carvings scattered about on various shelves and tables. Some looked like they were from his hand. Others, she was not so sure.

He was making this room his own. Viewing it as home, maybe? Her fingers trailed over the books on one of the shelves. Some she recognized as belonging to the Seyruun library, but others looked like they were a part of Zelgadis's personal collection. Except for . . .

"I thought he gave this back to Miss Lina," she said softly as she pulled _The Menagerie_ off the shelf.

She had never read it, herself. Every other time she had seen it, Zelgadis had been carefully pouring over it. Looking for clues, he said. If he found any, he had never said.

She let the book fall open randomly, and started reading about the goose. Halfway through the passage, she found the words that Lina had originally shared with them. No wonder the book had opened naturally to this page. How many times must Zelgadis have stared at this section, trying to understand why a statement about creation and the nature of the universe was interpolated into the middle of a description of the goose's preferred diet? It was almost funny.

Absently, she drifted to one of the stuffed chairs by the window, flipping to random pages and noticing that the book was well-used, judging by all the tiny marginal notations in various hands. Then she caught a particular phrase, and with a blush, realized that the notes in the margins had nothing to do with studying the text. She felt very strange as she deciphered the cramped hand, reading a story that described how two near-strangers found themselves in a situation that led to them having sex in a semi-public location. She thought she had wanted after waking up from one of those dreams? It was nothing compared to what she was currently feeling. But she also felt . . .

_Be aware of your surroundings, your feelings._ It was one of the most basic tenets of a shrine maiden's training.

She felt an overpowering lust, but somehow, it felt like it was being _imposed_ on her, rather than occurring naturally as her (overly eager) imagination interacted with the scene set on the page. Flipping through the book, she realized quickly that the majority of the marginalia was similar: stories of seduction that seduced the reader . . . distracted the reader . . .

Distracted from what?

Closing her eyes, she let her fingers rest on the open page, took a deep cleansing breath, and focused on the now.

Images of the full moon. Of Lina dressed in practically nothing while she pressed her body against Zelgadis. Of a marble quarry, looking like an inverted city full of pure white blocky façades. Of a woman in black screaming a challenge to the sky while slaying a dragon in the middle of an intense thunderstorm.

Gold. Red. White. Black.

Gold. Chaos. Order. Black.

Conscious thought intruded with a vengeance, knocking her out of the semi-meditative state she had slipped into with enough violence to give her a wicked headache. With an effort, she held on to the pattern she had seen, then looked down at the book. This particular page described golems. And the story in the margin? A single man—the ruler of a remote kingdom—described as cool, calculating, and pale, focused solely on giving himself pleasure.

"The stories are the key," she said excitedly to herself, as she flipped back to the page about the goose. And there it was, practically in plain sight: the seduction of the golden-haired maiden who threw herself passionately into the world by the dark-haired man who had plans within plans. Balance in the story that mirrored the statement in the middle of the description of the goose.

She wondered why the goose was so important, though. A dragon would have made a lot more sense.

She also wondered who she should share her discovery with first: Lina or Zelgadis.

* * *

"Come!" Phil said testily at the tapping on his office door. It was supposed to be his private time: the time he set aside every day to work on reports without interruption. The rest of the day, he went out of his way to make himself available to his people. All he asked was to be left alone during the time before dinner.

Today, apparently, it was too much to ask, since this was his third interruption. First, Ginevra had stopped by to visit with him. After sitting in his study and staring at him without saying anything for several moments, he had shrugged and started reading. Of course, that's when she decided to say what she had come to say, which, apparently, amounted to little more than a discussion of the palace pools on Lina and Gourry.

Then Aaron, his master archivist, had come to complain about Miss Lina using up the scrap parchment at an alarming rate and setting fires in the reading room of the library. As if he could control her, short of kicking her out of his kingdom . . . No, that was unfair. Using up parchment was normal behavior for Miss Lina, but burning it in the library certainly was not. A Lina who was losing control of her sanity and power, and who was setting fires in the middle of highly combustible materials was worthy of his attention.

"Sorry to bother you," Beren said apologetically as he poked his head in the room. "Do you have a moment?"

Phil suppressed a sigh. He might as well give up any hope of getting anything done this evening. "Of course," he replied as he set aside a report on the increasing incidence of coin clipping in one of the outer regions. He sat back in his chair and waited for Beren to make himself comfortable.

"What would you say," Beren said slowly as he stared out the window over Phil's shoulder, "if I asked for leave from my duties as high priest?"

"I'd want to know what brought this on all of the sudden," Phil replied seriously. "And I'd particularly want to know if this has anything to do with the fact that the latest spate of palace gossip is speculating about you and Miss Lina."

Something flashed in Beren's eyes, too quickly for Phil to recognize. "I've always wanted to be a priest of Ciephied," Beren said slowly. "I've always loved the story about how he sacrificed his power and form to counter Ruby Eye. When I was younger, I used to pretend that I was a Knight."

"To be a Knight of Ciephied is to be a Knight of Justice," Phil commented, wondering where this was going.

"Justice. Peace. Love. We associate all these things with Ciephied," Beren agreed. "But what if we're wrong?"

"What makes you think that we're wrong?" Phil asked gently, even as his concern spiked.

"Princess Amelia asked me a question the other day," Beren replied. "She wanted to know the origin of our creation stories. I had never really thought about it before, but there is no origin. Not one that can be traced. It's just something 'everyone seems to know.' There's not even any official teachings."

"Nothing?" Phil asked in shock. "I thought you were the keeper of the teachings," he declared, his tone just shy of being an accusation.

Beren looked at him with a curious expression. "Why would you think that?" he asked. "Did I ever say anything like that?"

Phil stopped to think about it, and realized that it was an unquestioning assumption he had made, and it was a rather unjustified assumption, considering that the majority of the teachings related to technique, not to lore. He gestured to Beren to continue, feeling a bit ill.

"After my brief conversation with the princess, I did a bit of research. You know the story of Shallara and Darionel, I presume."

Phil nodded curtly. It was the story of the foundation of Seyruun, after all. "Shallara and Darionel were siblings who fought over the succession when King Eldoran I died. Eventually, after several destructive and inconclusive battles, they agreed to settle the question through a trial of champions. Shallara's champion defeated Darionel's, making her queen. As a concession to Darionel's followers, his branch retained succession rights to the throne."

"Did you know that Shallara's champion was the Knight of Ciepheid?" Beren asked.

Phil rocked back mentally. "That's not in any of the stories I've heard," he objected. "And I'm a direct descendent of Shallara."

Beren spread his hands wide. "As I said, after my conversation with Princess Amelia, I did some hunting. I happened to find the private journal of Sigmund."

Phil's eyes were blank with lack of recognition. "Never heard of him," he said.

"I'm not surprised. He gave up his name when he became Shallara's high priest and consort. At least, if this particular journal can be believed."

"You have doubts?" Phil asked.

"Let's just call it healthy skepticism. It looks old enough," Beren replied.

Phil gestured for him to continue.

"At any rate, if we can believe Sigmund, he initiated worship of Ciephied in Seyruun as an act of admiration for and gratitude toward the Knight of Ciephied who placed his lover on the throne."

"Which means what, exactly?" Phil asked. As interesting as the conversation was, it hardly addressed the reasons behind Beren's request for leave.

"Which means that our entire worship of Ceiphied in Seyruun is based completely on Sigmund's ideas, and nothing else."

Phil studied Beren for several moments. "You think Sigmund made Ceiphied up," he finally said neutrally.

"No," Beren replied. "Ceiphied is real. I've met his current Knight." He paused and shuddered dramatically. "No," he repeated. "I think Sigmund's understanding of Ceiphied was . . ." He trailed off, considering. "Not wrong, exactly. But not exactly right, either."

"How so?" Phil asked.

"It was a question . . . Miss Lina asked me." Phil heard the slight hesitation before he named her, and saw something flare in Beren's eyes. "Why do you suppose we fear the Lord of Nightmares?" he asked.

Phil could not quite suppress the shudder. "Doesn't the name say it all?" he asked, thinking it should be obvious. "And what does this have to do with our understanding of Ceiphied?" he demanded.

"I'm getting there," Beren replied patiently. "We tend portray the Lord of Nightmares as the highest ranking Demon King, as if she were in opposition to Ceiphied."

Phil nodded in agreement.

"But," Beren pointed out, "the monsters view her as the Mother of All Creation. Not just their mother, but the mother of all. If that's true, she is the mother of both creation and destruction, of the Gods and the Demon Kings." He studied Phil for a moment, gauging his reaction.

"You think the monsters are right?" Phil asked.

"I think the monsters might be right," Beren agreed slowly. "And that's why I want leave. I think I need to better understand the God to whom I've dedicated my life."

"And you plan to do this how, exactly?" Phil asked as he pushed himself out of his chair, giving in to the need to pace while he tried to assess what was being said and what was left unsaid.

"I need distance," Beren replied. "This place is full of traditions, and those traditions have a weight that I cannot escape when I meditate. I need to be in a place where I can be open to possibilities without being unduly influenced by the reality of Ciephied as he exists here."

And there it was: the answer to a problem he had been considering subconsciously since he read the letter from Jeremiah of Lim, and consciously since Zelgadis had requested his formal permission to court Amelia this morning. "Distance, I can arrange," he said with a grin. "When Amelia and Zelgadis return to Lim, I'd like you to accompany them."

"Oh?" Beren asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Zelgadis formally asked for permission to court Amelia," he said with a smile. "It will be announced at the celebration Amelia is planning for this evening." Tonight he was going to focus on his daughter's happiness. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with the potential political fallout.

"That is good news," Beren said with a twinkle in his eye. "The princess must be ecstatic."

Phil laughed. "That's putting it mildly," he agreed. "So I need you as a chaperone of sorts. At least, that will be the official story." He gave Beren a very direct look. "Unofficially, there are many things about Lim that are not ringing true. Zelgadis thinks Lord Gottwald's request to court Amelia is a distraction." And there was something about the way she had agreed to the courtship that had been bothering him ever since her enthusiastic assent. She was clearly in love with Zelgadis. There was no need for her to accept another man's suit.

"You want me to be your eyes and ears," Beren said with quiet resolve.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want," Phil agreed.

* * *

The first thing he saw upon entering his room was Amelia, seated at the table he used as a study desk, hunched over a book and scratching hurried notes. She looked up at him, her expression oddly thoughtful.

"Welcome back," she said naturally, as if it were typical for her to wait for him in his rooms.

"Thanks," he replied.

"I managed to clear my afternoon schedule, and I thought we could spend some time together," she said in a carefully neutral tone. "But when I got here, Bryce said you had gone out."

He nodded confirmation, glad that he had not given Bryce any details. His manservant was solid and dependable, but also very literal and not at all good at keeping a secret.

"Since you weren't here," Amelia continued, "and Bryce didn't know when you'd get back, I thought I'd wait," she said as she glanced back down at the note she was writing. With a slight frown of concentration, she added a few words, and then blew on the ink before picking up the parchment and waving it in the air.

"How long have you been waiting?" he asked. She seemed to be in an odd mood, one that he could not easily gauge.

"Most of the afternoon," she said in a distracted tone as she tentatively touched to ink to see if it was dry. Apparently it was, since she folded the note and placed it inside the book, marking a spot before she closed it. As she did, he recognized the book. "I thought you gave this back to Miss Lina days ago," she commented mildly.

"I tried," he said shortly, even as he tried again to gauge her mood while attempting to ignore the panic and embarrassment he was currently feeling. "No one answered when I pounded on her door." And he had never quite gotten around to trying again. And because of that, not only had Amelia read it, she had apparently found it interesting enough to take notes . . .

For some reason, his brain got stuck on that thought: Amelia had spent the afternoon in his room, reading a book that had multiple stories about sexual encounters.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Somehow she had gotten from the table to his side without him noticing. "You're just staring off into space with this weird expression on your face," she added as she stroked his cheek.

Damn. He wished he could actually _feel_ her touch. He could almost, but not quite, imagine how it should feel, but not enough to react to it, the way he knew she wanted him to react.

And why had he been able to react last night, but not now?

With a barely suppressed sigh, he captured her hand in his and raised it to his lips. She smiled at him, although he could see the hint of confusion and sadness warring with happiness in her eyes.

"Did your father tell you?" he asked against her hand.

"Yes," she said happily as her fingers squeezed his. "If I had known that all it would take was to let another man court me, I would have done it long ago," she teased.

"That would have just pushed me away," he said seriously. He knew she was teasing him, but he did not want to diminish what a huge step this was for him. It was a conscious decision to move forward, instead of looking back.

"I know," she said softly, her eyes misting a bit. "I'm just so happy, I want to climb to the highest point in Seyruun and sing!"

"What's stopping you?" he asked, although privately he was relieved that she was restraining herself.

She pouted. "Daddy made me promise to wait until the formal announcement," she said. "After that, though . . ." She trailed off with a smile.

"All I can offer you is who I am now," he reminded her as he ran his fingers gently over her hand still captured within his. "And I can't promise that I won't be possessive. I told you that I'm a selfish bastard."

"And I won't pretend that it doesn't make me sad that you can't give me your physical feelings yet," she replied seriously. "Although I really hope we figure something out soon," she declared with a hint of frustration.

"Does that mean I should or should not expect you to show up in my room again in the middle of the night," he asked lightly.

She gave him a look that was mainly puzzled, but overlaid with a hint of embarrassment. "But I—" she broke off and embarrassment bloomed intense. "Last night," she said slowly, hesitantly, "Last night, I had a very vivid dream. I dreamt that I came to your room."

It was Zelgadis's turn to be puzzled. "Last night, you came to my room. You stood by my bed. And you asked me a question."

He would not have thought it possible, but Amelia blushed even harder as she shook her head. "I dreamt that," she conceded, "But I'm sure I didn't leave my rooms . . ." she trailed off, then took a deep breath. "Which means we shared my dream," she said softly, almost with a tone of wonder.

"We shared a dream?" he asked, feeling rather dismayed. It would explain why he was able to react to her, though. "How—" he started to ask before it occurred to him. "Lina," he growled an accusation. He should have known she would interfere with him again.

"What about Miss Lina?" Amelia asked, sounding almost angry, her hands curling into fists clenched tight at her side.

"She did this to me. To us," he amended quickly. "With that damn dream walking technique she wanted to learn—"

"Why does it always have to be about her," Amelia interrupted. Now it was obvious she was angry. "_I'm_ a shrine maiden of Ciephied and a princess of Seyruun. What makes you think that I didn't link our dreams?"

"Because you've never done it before," he snapped, stating the obvious.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," she retorted, advancing toward him. "_I'm_ the one Miss Lina came to for information and training. _I'm_ the one who made it possible for her—"

"You didn't even realize that it had happened until just now," he interrupted, grabbing her wrists.

Unexpectedly, it stopped her tirade. She cocked her head at him quizzically, and then took a deep breath. "Distractions and seductions," she said very softly.

"What?" he asked, feeling very off-balance.

"It makes me angry," she said neutrally. "Whenever you talk about Miss Lina like that."

"You know I don't trust her right now," he pointed out, trying to hold onto his temper. "She's holding too many secrets. She keeps turning violent and attacking you. It's her fault that—" he broke off abruptly, clamping his lips together.

"It makes me angry," she repeated with considerable heat and trying—unsuccessfully—to free her wrists, "when you talk about Miss Lina like that! All I can see is her seducing you right in front of me!"

"You kissed her too!" he countered almost automatically, feeling a burning jealousy and resentment that she would want Lina more than him. Then he stopped suddenly and released Amelia's wrists as he actually processed what he had just said and thought.

"_She_ kissed _me_," Amelia corrected indignantly, before she too trailed off, looking rather confused. "I can see it so clearly," she said softly. "It's dark everywhere except around her. You reach her first, and I'm afraid that she's going to hurt you, but instead, she smiles at you suggestively, closes the distance. She slides her bare thigh between your legs," Amelia continued, staring at something only she could see, "while her hand snakes around your neck . . ." She shook her head forcefully. "Where does this memory come from?" she asked, sounding very confused. "Miss Lina doesn't act like that!"

Amelia's description of Lina kissing him . . . it evoked the half-remembered feeling of being helpless prey. His hand rose to the side of his neck, feeling for . . . what? With an effort of will, he forced himself to focus on Amelia. "Doesn't that give support to my theory that she interfered with our dreams?" he asked softly.

Amelia shook her head decisively. "Daddy told me that Miss Lina only learned how to enter the dreams of others yesterday. I've had this nagging feeling of anger towards her for a lot longer than that." She paused and examined him carefully, something angry . . . and possessive? . . . in her eyes. "And you've been surprisingly submissive around her for about the same amount of time," she accused.

He did not want to admit it, but it was true. How long had he been wary of Lina? Ever since the night she had tried to attack Amelia? No, that had sparked concern for Amelia. This . . . submissiveness, as Amelia described it, was more because he feared Lina's power over him. Again, his hand rose to the side of his neck, feeling for . . . scars.

He was just about to ask Amelia to examine his neck for anything odd when Bryce entered the room, lugging two pails full of tan slurry. "Begging your pardon, Princess," he said, sounding slightly breathless, "but I need to start getting your escort ready for the banquet." Without waiting for a reply, he headed into the bathroom, and they could both hear him rummaging around in there.

Amelia sighed inaudibly, even as he reached for her hand. "I'm jealous of Lina," she said quietly. "You're wary of her. She keeps going violent and not caring if we're in the way of her destructive spells. Somehow I've been remiss . . ." she trailed off, staring into space.

"Amelia . . ." he said, not certain how to respond, or even if he should.

She gently withdrew her hand from his and squared her shoulders. "I'll see you later?" she asked, her tone that of princess to escort.

"Yes," he replied formally, even though he did not want her to leave.

Something shifted in her eyes, softened. "Until later, then," she said as she slipped out of his rooms, the words a promise and a caress that unaccountably made him remember the way he had felt in their dream, made him remember that there was a way for him to react to her.

"That, my Princess," he said softly to the closed door, "is a promise."

* * *

"You're awake," Ailith said happily as she bustled into the room, pulling open the drapes to let in the late evening sun.

"Just barely," Lina replied, pushing herself up onto an elbow. Despite the fact that she had no memory of returning to her room, she felt surprisingly well-rested and relaxed. More so than she had in longer than she could remember. Probably because for the first time in longer than she could remember, she had slept without experiencing a single nightmare. In fact, the only thing she could recall from her dreams was working through a long set of abstract and challenging math problems. Why had she never before recognized the similarities between abstract math and magic? She wondered if Seyruun's library had a copy of Ptolemy's _Geometry_. She just barely recalled something about epicycles and equants that might just help her solve—

"That's good enough," Ailith responded, cleanly breaking Lina's train of thought as she moved purposefully toward the dresser. "Sir Gabriev has stopped by at least twice, and the High Priest Beren has been waiting for the last hour.

"An hour?" Lina repeated incredulously. "Did he say what for?"

Ailith shook her head. "No, just that he wanted to see you as soon as you woke." A frown hovered briefly on her lips as she pulled back the covers. "So let's get you cleaned up and presentable," she said briskly.

"Cleaned up . . ." Lina glanced down, as Ailith bustled into the bathroom to draw, and it was her turn to frown at the streaks of soot that covered her. How in the world had she managed to get so filthy? It was no wonder Ailith was talking about making her presentable.

The rested feeling was quickly fading, and it was replaced with a sense of foreboding; that sense of being in the presence of the enemy, of being watched by the enemy was back with a vengeance. It was all she could do to hold still while Ailith took care of the bare necessities. Fortunately, Lina had never been comfortable having with this aspect of personal service, so she hoped Ailith would not view her growing discomfort as anything out of the ordinary.

By the time Ailith pronounced her presentable enough to receive Beren, Lina was certain that she was nearly out of time. The path had led her through Seyruun, and even though she still had half a dozen things she wanted to take care of: talking to Sylphiel about the Lord of Nightmares, continuing to learn about Dream Walking, helping Amelia develop that spell, finding her four fragments—Lina ruthlessly cut off that thought, refusing to allow it to develop further. No, she was not going to think about that right now. She was only barely under control as it was.

Beren was pacing in her outer room when Ailith opened her bedroom door. "Finally," he said with a gusty sigh. His eyes held hers for a moment, and then another while he looked for something . . . and did not seem to find it.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Lina replied, trying to sound as if she did not have a care in the world, as if she did not feel like one wrong word was going to send her into a flurry of violence.

He flicked his hand dismissively, as if it were no matter, which was very much at odds with his pacing moments before, although Lina could tell that something in him had relaxed. "We're about to be thrown into yet another one of Seyruun's famous parties," he said as he took a seat and gestured for her to join him.

"Yes, Ailith told me," she replied, wondering where he was going with this announcement, even as she sat as he indicated. "Apparently, I'm supposed to be the guest of honor, even though the party is supposed to celebrate Zel finally declaring his intent to court Amelia." Zelgadis certainly did not waste time. He went from disinterested bodyguard to formal suitor in the course of a single day. "The courtship offers are just flying in, suddenly," Lina murmured, although she was quite pleased with this particular development. Surprised, but happy, nonetheless.

"Yes, the party is officially to acknowledge Zelgadis's suit," Beren agreed equably. "Which makes our relations with Lim . . . awkward."

Lina blew out her breath. "Amelia did it to hurt Zelgadis," she declared with certainty. "I don't think she really considered all the ramifications."

"Regardless of _why_ Amelia decided to accept the formal suits of two men within a matter of days, the fact remains that we now have to deal with those ramifications."

"So what do you want from me?" Lina asked, while her thoughts whirled. It really did not matter to her if relations between Seyruun and Lim were less than cordial, but she supposed that it would matter to Phil. And it should have mattered to Amelia too . . . Now that she really considered it, despite Amelia's desire to hurt Zelgadis, which Lina knew had motivated her, accepting a political suitor when she had feelings for someone else was wildly out of character. Lina's brow furrowed slightly as she wondered why she had not realized that sooner.

"We'd like your permission to assign Zander to stand as your escort tonight." Beren said with a slight twinkle in his eye.

Definitely not what she was expecting, although after thinking about it for a moment, it made sense. Still . . . "Won't that seem weird?" Lina asked. "Everyone knows that Gourry always stands as my escort for these things."

Beren's eyes still twinkled, but behind that façade, he was studying her intently, gauging her reactions. "The Marquessa of Darionay has requested that Gourry escort her tonight," he said blandly.

"I see," Lina replied, equally blandly, while she seethed inwardly. That bitch. "Well, I suppose that's one way for her to keep better tabs on him," she added negligently.

"Speculation on where Gourry Gabriev spent last night is running rampant, as are the betting pools." Beren gave her a pointed glance.

"Well don't look at me," Lina replied airily while she tried not to rub her hands together at the thought of more easy money. "_I_ certainly don't try to keep tabs on him!"

For some reason, Beren found that funny. He had a rich and infectious laugh, one that made her want to join in, even though she hardly found the situation amusing.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Lina said after a moment. "There are any number of high-ranked ladies you could assign Zander to this evening."

"Ah, but you are the one he focused on during the last party," Beren pointed out. "Besides, how many other ladies have the implicit trust of the ruling family, a reputation for greed and a thirst for power," he ticked each point off on his finger, "a cunning mind, and a surprising aptitude for Dream Walking?"

Lina's eye twitched. She was not sure if she should feel flattered or insulted after that litany. "So, you want me to use my feminine charm to convince him to spill all his secrets?"

"In a manner of speaking," Beren agreed. "You've earned the trust of Phil and Amelia over and again. You've demonstrated that you are a superb actress."

"Oh?" Lina responded simply.

"The others are unsure," he answered. "The palace pools are hopping, still trying to figure out your relationship with Gourry: are you just friends? Friends with benefits? Lovers? Even Princess Amelia is unsure."

"And you?" she asked, not knowing if she was relieved that they had kept everyone off balance, or scared because it was clear that Beren knew.

"I shared your dream," he said as if it were explanation enough. And in a way it was.

"Did you tell anyone?" she asked with a sigh, even as she studied him closely, using the skills Gourry had started to teach her, trying to see all the details that made up the whole.

"I shared your dream," he repeated. She could see everything he left unsaid and knew that he understood a lot. Not everything, but more than she had thought. And although she still did not know him, she thought that she could trust him. After all, she had also shared _his_ dream.

"So, you don't just want me to use my feminine charm on Zander," she said, moving back to the topic at hand. "You want me to convince him that I might have information that Lim would find of value, to gain his trust."

Beren nodded, his eyes twinkling once again. "Care to play spy for us, Miss Lina?"

It was a surprisingly tempting request. She had never really had the opportunity to plunge into political intrigue before. Still, given the fact that she knew she was running out of time, she was not certain if this was part of her path, or just a distraction. "What's in it for me?" she asked.

"Information," he said casually as he deliberately avoided her eyes and flicked a speck of lint off his robes. "Yet another chance to keep everyone unsure."

"If I agree to this, you're going to owe me," Lina said softly as she wavered.

"Name your price," Beren replied, meeting her gaze. "If it is in my power, I will meet it."

Lina struggled to keep her jaw from dropping. Given her reputation, only a fool would offer such a reply. A fool . . . or someone desperate. Her eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I know your reputation," Beren said equably. "I'm not a fool. I've walked your dreams."

Lina fought against an urge to shudder. The temptation to ask for her own title with matching estate and servants vanished, and she was suddenly certain that this was part of her path, and she had been clearly warned not to stray from it. "There may come a time," she said slowly, choosing her words with care, "when I'll need divine protection. I want you to promise to provide me what you can, no questions asked, when I need it."

Beren smiled, although it was bittersweet. "That I can promise without hesitation," he said simply.

Lina walked over to window, and stared out at the sky washed red by the setting sun while her thoughts whirled chaotically. "I'd like to request that Zander stand escort for me this evening," she said, as if it were a matter of no importance, "since Gourry is otherwise occupied."

"I'll see what I can arrange," Beren replied in a crisp tone.

She continued to stare out the window, even as she listened to him cross her suite and leave. This was her path, even though she could see no more than the flagstones immediately before her feet. Even though the flagstone she could see did not lead where she wanted to go.

* * *

Gourry knocked harder on Lina's door. He'd been standing there for several minutes, his earlier knock unanswered. He needed to see her before the party. He needed to see her before he had to go escort the Marquessa of Darionay. Funny that her interfering with his plans was enough to make him remember her title at least, if not her name.

He was tempted to leave now. Oh, how he was tempted. It certainly would solve a lot of problems, the main one being that he would neatly avoid ending up in the Marquessa's bed at the end of the evening.

After what seemed an eternity, Ailith answered the door, muttering something about needing another servant. She flushed a bit when she recognized him, but her tone verged on impolite when she informed him that Lina was not yet ready.

With a sunny smile, he told her that was fine, even as he pushed past her, through Lina's sitting room and into her bedroom. Ailith harangued him and tried to prevent him from going further every step of the way.

Lina was sitting at her dresser, wearing a thin silk robe, with her hair half arranged. She took one startled glance at him, murmured something under her breath, and Ailtih suddenly slumped right next to him. Instinct took over, and he caught her before she hit the floor, and carried her over to Lina's bed.

When he turned around, Lina was giving him a look that was one part distracted and one part annoyed. "I distinctly recall you once shoving Amelia out of the way and letting me hit the ground flat on my face," she said testily.

He had no real memory of doing so, but it sounded like something he would do, especially if he knew she would not be hurt by the fall. "If I had caught you, what would you have done?" he asked, instead of trying to explain himself.

Annoyance was colored with a blush, and she compressed her lips in a thin line. "Probably beat the crap out of you for taking advantage of me," she said, managing to sound both testy and chagrinned.

"Not much incentive for me to catch you, then," he pointed out as he crossed the room and knelt before her, cupping her cheek in a caress to take the edge off his reply.

She leaned into him, closing her eyes and sighing in contentment. After a moment, she leaned back and examined him. "What is it?" she asked.

He stood abruptly and paced, needing the motion to burn off frustration. "Phil's cousin somehow got me assigned as her official escort for Amelia's party," he said in a bleak tone.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know." Her tone was so carefully neutral, he had no idea if she approved or was angry.

"I was planning to escort you," he added, turning to face her.

"I know," she said again. This time, there was enough inflection in her voice for him to get a read on her feelings. He could sense regret, annoyance, and determination. "Instead, Zander is going to be escorting me," she added.

"The dancer?" he asked, feeling a surge of possessiveness and jealousy.

She nodded curtly. "Phil and Beren want me to get close to him and see if I can find anything out."

Alarms went off in the back of his mind. "Lina . . ." he started, not sure if it was time to tell her that they needed to leave soon. It felt like a distraction tailor made for Lina, and he did not like it one bit. Or maybe he just did not like the idea of her hanging on the arm of the dancer. That, too.

"Before we left Eshar, the Tesha warned me not to stray from my path."

He gave her a blank look. He thought all she had were garbled incomplete memories of Eshar. For some reason, he seemed to be the only one who remembered everything.

"The old woman who runs the village," she said acerbically, misinterpreting his expression.

"I know who she is," he replied, keeping his tone even. "I didn't think you remembered anything from Eshar."

"From the moment we agreed to help, until the moment we woke in the temple," she said, "it's like . . ." she paused for a moment, an odd expression on her face. "Like my memories are wrapped in a thick woolen batting. But everything else . . ." she trailed off with a shrug. "Right now," she said unhappily, "this is my path. To stand by and watch you escort Ginevra." She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and then looked him in the eye for the first time since she had put Ailith to sleep. "And let whatever will happen, happen."

Gourry felt as though she had kicked him in the gut, and judging by her expression, she knew how he felt. He could sense regret, bitterness, jealousy, possessiveness, and determination, all swirling in her eyes.

"I don't have to sleep with her," he rasped. Oh, she was attractive enough, and he had wondered what it would feel like to feel her lush softness enveloping him. But physical attraction was not enough. Could never be enough.

The look in Lina's eyes was as hard and sharp as a dagger. "I told you what my path is," she said, her words precise and clipped.

"The only reason we're in this situation in the first place is because you insisted that we keep our relationship secret," he said angrily, keeping his voice low. "I only did it because you wanted it. So don't think you can just back out now and place responsibility solely on me!"

"I'm not," she returned with equal heat. "You think I want this?" she said as she gestured widely. "You think I want to stand by and watch another woman toy with you because she's bored?" Her eyes held his. "You're mine, Gourry," she said intently. "And you know I don't share." She took a deep breath. "I know we're at this point because of me." She stood up from her dresser and started pacing, the thin silk robe clinging to her form as she moved. "You don't have to sleep with her," she agreed to his earlier objection. "You just have to do what the moment tells you to do."

"Even if that means sleeping with her," he pushed, still not liking the situation. It was so unlike Lina to give up control.

"Even if that means sleeping with her," Lina agreed. She glanced at Ailith, sleeping on her bed, and shuddered.

"What do you see?" he asked softly. He had avoided asking the question for weeks, somehow sensing that asking her to talk about the nightmares would push her over the edge. Now, instinct told him that she had to share.

She turned slowly to face him, and the look on her face terrified him. There was no trace of sanity in her eyes. "The vessel must be purified," she said in a sing-song croon. "The vessel must be destroyed. So they take the lover, the child. They mutilate the child, torture the lover. Blood. So much blood. The vessel holds the knife."

Gourry fought against the sudden urge to throw up. Instead, he crossed the room, and stood in front of her. "I brought you a gift," he said softly.

It seemed like forever before her eyes met his. "A gift?" she echoed. Her voice sounded more normal, although there was still a trace of that sing-song croon. He could see the effort it took her to focus, to let go of the horror of nightmare visions and let her natural persona reassert itself.

It was kind of stupid, but he felt a flutter of nerves as he reached into the pocket inside his doublet and removed a narrow velvet-lined box, which he presented to her in a flourish. He had planned the gift initially as a formal declaration of his intent to court her. That aspect was still there, of course, but more than anything else, he hoped the gift would help her regain lost balance.

Moving slowly and carefully, she took the proffered box. A flick of her hand lifted the lid, exposing the simple gold locket hung on a thin gold chain that was as strong as it was delicate. She caressed the locket with her index finger before lifting it out of the case.

"Open it," he said softly, still feeling that flutter of uncertainty in his stomach. He had never given anyone a gift like this before. It was not just the aspect of courtship that had him feeling unsure of himself; it was also the importance of what the locket contained.

She looked at him quizzically, which made him feel better, since it indicated that she had gained yet another measure of control. With an almost imperceptible shrug, she sprung the tiny clasp that held the locket shut. The contents clearly shocked her, but her initial surprise was quickly replaced with relief. He could actually see tension melting away as she relaxed muscles he was not sure she realized she had been holding taut.

"Gourry," she breathed as her fingers stroked the objects inside the locket: a small shred of red fabric, a tiny splinter of wood, a white fluff of down, and a small brass nail. The four fragments the Lady had given him. Although the Lady had asked him to keep them safe, he could not shake the feeling that it would be best for Lina to carry them. He just had to figure out a way to make it impossible for her to lose them again. He was not sure what made him think so, but he was certain that these were the objects she had been seeking this morning, when she had come to the edge of violence yet again.

"May I?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Something unidentifiable flickered in her eyes, but without a word, she handed him the locket and turned. As he draped the chain around her neck, letting his fingers linger against her skin while he fastened the chain, he could not tell if he was trembling or her skin was quivering. Maybe it was both? As the locket came to rest just above the swell of her breasts, she touched her fingers to it, and he felt something travel through the chain. It was tingly, almost like a static charge, but far more pleasurable. He could almost see an arc of light weave around the clasp as he fastened it. As she turned to face him again, he ran his fingers along the chain, along her skin: almost an innocent touch, but one that had her reacting to him.

"Thank you," she said simply, even as she stepped forward and kissed him with barely restrained passion. "I needed that," she said impishly as she broke the connection and tucked the locket into her robe.

"Which one?" he asked dutifully, even though he already knew the answer.

"Both, of course," she said as she tried to toss her hair over her shoulder. It was a move that would have come off better if the majority of her hair had not already been captured by pins and other assorted implements that were used to pile women's hair on the tops of their heads for fancy occasions.

"I think you're going to need your maid to finish dressing," he pointed out, reminded by the toss of her head.

Lina turned all business-like. "Pick her up, like you just caught her," she directed crisply. "We'll act like she just fainted momentarily. Try to look concerned."

Within a matter of moments, Ailith was awake and apologizing profusely while Lina was solicitously bustling her maid over to the bed, claiming that she needed to rest until the dizziness passed. While Lina fussed, Gourry offered to get some help. It was fairly simple to find an extra maid who was currently unoccupied. It took a bit more effort to convince her that helping Lina and Ailith was a good idea.

By then, it was time to pay his duties to the Marquessa.

Now that he had better insight into exactly what was terrifying Lina, the need to keep them all safe was overpowering. So he would play this final game with the Marquessa, wherever it might lead. Hopefully not to her bed. But even if it did . . .

It was time to leave. Not right now, this moment, but soon. The moon would rise slightly before the sun. By the time it did, they needed to be on their way.

* * *

Somehow, her plan to throw a party designed to honor Lina and Gourry had been completely derailed. First, her cousin had to go and throw around her considerable weight with Daddy to make him formally appoint Gourry as her escort. Gourry was such an airheaded gentleman that of course he would agree with nary a protest. Then, before she could figure out how get Gourry unattached, Daddy went and appointed Zander as Lina's escort. About the only thing Amelia had been able to salvage out of the situation was to make sure that Lina and Gourry were sitting next to each other. Not that it had done a lot of good. Dinner had been exceedingly short, and the courses had consisted of soup, followed by a bunch of tiny little canapés, and the desert course: more in the nature of a light snack, and nothing that Lina and Gourry would really be willing to fight each other for. It would not surprise her in the least if the kitchens had changed the menu after seeing her seating chart.

To make matters even worse, Ginevra had managed somehow to get Gourry to feed her. The sight had been enough to turn her stomach, but Lina sat there, blithely chatting with Zander as if she had no worries in the world.

The only good thing about the evening so far was the fact that Zelgadis had been at her side. Well, mostly at her side. At the moment, Daddy was introducing him to people as her new suitor. Most of them already knew him as her bodyguard, but these were the forms, and this was one part of his job that she knew her father loved. Besides, it gave them a pretty good gauge on who supported his courtship, who was indifferent, and who would oppose. Not that she cared so much about the latter. The fact that Zelgadis had officially and publicly declared his intent to court her also made her nearly giddy, although she would have been happy with a simple private declaration. Still, knowing one's enemies was just good sense.

The fact that she had two official suitors now . . . well, she would think about that later.

Now, she had to play the proper hostess, despite the fact that she really wanted to march onto the dance floor, drag Gourry off of Ginevra, and make him cut in on Lina and Zander. It would be a lot easier to look pleased if she did not hear all the side bets being made on Gourry bedding Ginevra tonight, or all the cooing over what a perfect couple Lina and Zander made as they glided across the floor. Zander was such a skilled dancer, any women he partnered looked good.

Lina looked better than good. And as much as she did not want to admit it, they were well matched. Nearly the perfect couple.

Amelia felt the smile on her face start to slip, so she reapplied herself. The smile became genuine as she watched Gourry bow to Ginevra, and then cut it on Zander, as if he had heard her thoughts. Now, if only she could figure out a way to make Gourry publicly declare his intent to court Lina . . .

Her musings were interrupted by a melodious baritone by her ear. "Do you see it?" asked Beren, with a subtle gesture that indicated the dancers in general—Lina and Gourry in particular.

"Yes," she said quietly, but happily. "I noticed it this morning," she added as she continued to study Lina, this time from the perspective of her training as a shrine maiden. The additional life force was a bit stronger than this morning: a golden pulse that centered in Lina's core. Oddly, the pulse intensified when the dance brought her into contact with Gourry, and there was a strand of black threaded through the gold. It was only visible when Gourry and Lina touched however. "But I've never seen anything quite like that," she murmured thoughtfully, thinking about the code she had discovered in _The Menagerie_.

"This complicates matters," Beren muttered, sounding less than pleased.

"Why is that?" Amelia demanded indignantly, wondering why Beren would care. Then she remembered the rumors that claimed that after they had been seen kissing on the practice grounds, Lina had accompanied Beren to his rooms.

He gave her a quelling glance that reminded her that she should keep her voice down, especially when she noticed that people in her vicinity were glancing at them curiously. She reapplied her court smile, and acknowledged them while trying to give the impression that there was nothing of interest going on.

Beren just shrugged. Given the attention they had attracted, it made sense, even though it infuriated her. "Because your father requested that I serve as your chaperone on your return to Lim," he said smoothly, completely changing the subject, but in a manner that gave her outburst a different context for palace gossip.

"I still think it's strange for the High Priest of Ceiphied to stand as a chaperone," she grumbled good-naturedly.

The dance ended at that moment, and she watched as Gourry bowed before Lina and kissed her hand before handing her off to Zander and heading back to the Marquessa, who took his arm possessively, and rather unsubtly crushed it against her bosom. Several images about what she would like to do to the Marquessa flashed through her mind, none of them very just. Suppressing a sigh, she excused herself from Beren and went to rescue Zelgadis from her father.

* * *

Lina lay back on her bed and tried to force herself to relax. The party was finally over. She had endured Gourry spending the majority of the evening glued to the Marquessa of Darionay, while she had spent the majority of the evening subtly pumping Zander for information. She hoped Beren appreciated her efforts, because among the things she had found out was that the Ambassador of Lim was pleased that his master now had a rival for Amelia's hand.

Now, if only she could shake this edgy feeling.

Too many thoughts were whirling through her head for her to relax. There was so much she needed to do. So much that she wanted to do, and yet she could feel her time growing shorter.

The moment she heard the soft tap on her door, she realized that part of the reason she could not relax was that she had been waiting to hear it. As she released the various spells that she put on her room to keep sound in and "helpful" individuals out, she remembered how Gourry had claimed to have used his sword to break her spells and wondered if it was possible to develop a spell that could avoid being absorbed the Blast Blade. She really did not like the idea of him being able to counteract her magic so easily.

The spells were no sooner down than Gourry was pushing her door open. "We need to leave, Lina," he said without any preamble. He was dressed in his travel clothes, and his carry sack was slung over a shoulder.

"Now?" she asked, incredulously, wondering what had come over him. "What did you do to the Marquessa?" she asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Got her drunk," he said shortly. "She passed out soon after I got her back to her rooms."

"I meant," Lina said slowly, "what did you do to her that makes us have to leave now?"

"Nothing," he answered tersely. "This has nothing to do with that."

Lina had known her time in Seyruun was growing short. But there were so many things she needed to do before they could leave. "I'm not ready to go yet," she responded with a toss of her head. "I've still got to research a spell for Amelia, and I need to follow-up with Beren, and I want to talk to Sylphiel—"

"We need to leave now," he interrupted, his arms crossed over his chest. There were very few times when Gourry would dig in his heels against her. As much as she hated to admit it, the majority of the times—okay, all of the times—he was right.

"Okay," she said slowly. "We'll leave in the morning, right after I get my book from Zelgadis. Okay?"

He shook his head. "You start packing, I'll go get the book from Zel, and then we'll leave."

"Gourry," she said, trying to maintain a reasonable tone. "It's the middle of the night. The gates have been locked. It makes more sense to leave in the morning."

Gourry snorted. "Like that's ever stopped you from getting in or out of a place," he retorted. "I'd think you'd jump at the chance to drag me through the air to get over the wall."

Lina stared at him, her thoughts whirling. Gourry was actually volunteering to be levitated? He hated not having the ground firmly beneath his feet. That, more than anything else convinced her of how important leaving now was to him. She thought again about everything she still wanted to do. She thought about distractions. But when she thought about leaving, now, this moment, she knew it was the right thing to do.

"Well, if you're going to get my book from Zel, if you can give me just a minute, I've got something I want to leave for Amelia as well. You can take care of that while I pack, and I'll meet you at the palace gate. Deal?"

Gourry studied her, and she could tell that he was surprised by her abrupt capitulation. Instead of wasting time, though, she went to her desk, pulled out a piece of parchment, and began to sketch out the details of the spell she had started researching. It was not yet complete, but this should be enough information to get Amelia started. It did not take her long. Within moments she handed Gourry a sealed envelope with Amelia's name on it.

"This to Amelia, the book from Zel," he said as confirmation. "That's it?"

Lina cocked her head to the side, as a thought occurred to her. "One more thing for Amelia, I think," she said slowly as she headed towards the closet and pulled out her cloak. Within moments, she had found a small crushed velvet bag, opened it, and was examining the small orihalcon statuette of Amelia. There was nothing specific about the statuette that she could identify, but she suddenly had the strongest feeling that the object should be with Amelia. Moving quickly and with purpose, she slid the statuette back in the bag and handed it to Gourry.

"I thought you were just going to show this to Amelia," Gourry pointed out as he took the bag. "You sure you want me to leave it for her?"

"Yeah," Lina answered as she started packing. "I never got the chance to, though." She paused, holding her spare pair of leggings. "Just tell her that I wanted her to see it, and I'll eventually want it back."

"That sounds more like it," Gourry commented blandly as he turned to leave.

Lina threw one of her boots in his general direction. She knew the odds of hitting him were low, but it certainly made her feel better. Well, at least a bit.

Gourry laughed as he dodged the boot and closed her door, and Lina was alone with her thoughts as she mechanically packed her travel belongings.

* * *

He could not sleep. He wanted to sleep. He did not want to fall asleep. Amelia might find him, might link their dreams.

He wanted her to link their dreams, wanted to believe that it had been her who had linked their dreams. He wanted . . .

In the silence of his mind, he could hear _her_ laughing at him, commenting that he was totally out of control. Because he could _feel_.

Zelgadis pushed himself out of his bed. It was not as if he really needed to sleep. This body did not need things like rest or food: it was built to be a weapon, after all. Sleep was more of a habit, a way to pass the time. A way to cling to a sense of normalcy, of humanity.

He should have been ecstatic to discover that there was a way for him to feel, even if it was only in a dream state. It had certainly felt real. And yet discovering that it was not real . . . it made him angry.

Specifically, it made him angry with Lina.

She was the one who kept pushing him about wanting to have everything: a body that was impervious to normal weapons, that increased the pool of magical energy available to him. A body that could feel the sensuous touch of a lover, that could give and receive pleasure.

It was her fault that he no longer wanted to be cured. She was the one who had shown him how weak his human flesh could be. It was her fault, because she kept trying to hurt Amelia.

It was her fault that he kept having these crazy thoughts that made absolutely no sense.

With a deep breath, he pulled on a robe and headed into his sitting room, his eyes automatically cataloguing everything: an easel with a half-finished canvas next to the window; his collection of books; his guitar leaning proudly in its stand next to his desk . . . something was out of place there. He summoned a small ball of light as he strode purposefully toward the desk, where a small lumpy sack sat on a sealed envelope. He recognized Lina's handwriting, although she had at least taken the time to use a book hand, and wondered what it was doing in his room, since it was clearly addressed to Amelia. He could have understood if it had been in her typical illegible scrawl. He was even more puzzled when he opened the sack to reveal a small statuette of Amelia in one of her famous justice poses. It was exquisitely carved, and he could practically hear her inhaling to begin a speech. He brought the light closer, looking for the sculptor's mark. The sculptor clearly had skill—nothing close to that of Keliya, to be sure. But enough skill to capture the unguarded essence of Amelia. There was something familiar about the style . . .

The sudden loud tolling of bells interrupted his contemplation of the statue and had him reaching for his sword and sprinting towards the door before he realized that the bells did not have the feel of an alarm klaxon. They were tolling slowly, and almost mournfully. Strapping his sword to his side, he plunged into the slow chaos that ruled the hallway, as sleepy nobles gathered in small clusters and tousle-headed servants—many with black ribbons on their arms—wove among them while the bells continued their mournful dirge. Zelgadis threaded through the mass of humanity clogging halls that were not designed as gathering places, pushing his way towards Amelia's suite and hoping the bells were not tolling for her. His rational brain told him that it was unlikely, and that someone would have told him if . . . But emotionally, he was terrified of losing her before he really had a chance to win her, and his emotions were in no mood to be reasonable.

Panic made him put on a burst of speed, and after he knocked down someone who did not get out of his way fast enough, the number of people in his direct path thinned dramatically. When he finally arrived at Amelia's rooms, he took a deep breath to steady himself and opened the door.

His relief at seeing Amelia safe changed to jealous fury when he realized that she was in someone else's arms. Before he could act on it, though, he realized that the man holding her was her uncle, Christopher, and his face was ravaged by tears, as was Amelia's.

"Oh, Zelgadis," she cried as she hurled herself into his arms, clinging to him while sobs shuddered through her frame.

"What is it?" he asked softly, trying to comfort her and regain some sense of normalcy while dealing with the aftereffects of an intense emotional cocktail.

Christopher swallowed convulsively several times before he was finally able to speak. "My father just died," he said quietly, his face a mask of grief.

* * *

After a long illness, King Eldoran of Seyruun was dead, and his kingdom mourned, even as his subjects planned the official coronation of the man who had ruled them unofficially for so many years.

Visitors and dignitaries poured in from other kingdoms to pay their respects. The palace was filled to overflowing, as were most of the inns not only in the city, but also in the villages surrounding the city. Those who served the palace were hard-pressed to keep the visitors fed, entertained, clothed, and out of trouble.

Aside from the formal events, the royal family was nearly inaccessible, as the mourning rituals associated with the death of the king kept their lives strictly scripted.

Thus it was that while the absence of Lina Inverse and Gourry Gabriev was noted, no one had the time or energy to wonder where they had gone, or even exactly when they had left.

And thus it was that when a letter addressed to Lina Inverse arrived, the envelope marked in bold with the word "URGENT," no one really knew what to do with it. Ailith ended up tucking it in the small cubby that held her personal possessions, as Lina's quarters were temporarily housing the High Priest of the Shrine of the Firelord from Sellentia, his consort, and their three children.

In the hustle and bustle, the urgent letter for Lina Inverse was forgotten, its words unread.

_Don't come home_, it said in a tight and compact merchant script, _or I'll kill you_.

* * *

AN: This chapter is out much later than I expected. I actually had about half of it written last summer, and then got stuck after the scene with the Lady. I knew this was the "leaving" chapter, and I was having trouble figuring out how exactly to get Lina and Gourry to leave. I finally just skipped the whole issue entirely, sent the chapter to my beta reader, Filing Sloth, and hoped for the best. Of course, he insisted that I write both the party scene and the leaving scene (both of which I'd skipped). Of course, I knew he was right . . . It's been a challenging summer, though. In addition to taking on a heavier teaching load, I picked up extra service responsibilities, and my husband and I decided to enter a ballroom dancing competition, which meant constructing four new competition dresses and attaching the rhinestones . . . Add to that a surprise drive down to VA to set my son up for his NASA internship, and I'm not sure where the time has gone! At any rate, I appreciate the readers' patience. I hope you enjoyed the next installment of Nightmares!


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